


Times Like These

by just_quintessentially_me



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Humor, One Shot Collection, Romance, Sentence Prompts, and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 36,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_quintessentially_me/pseuds/just_quintessentially_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My collection of Levihan drabbles and one-shots. They're all based on various sentence prompts and requests from Tumblr. </p>
<p> <br/>"The night sighed, and flimsy curtains billowed and swayed. Pale sheets were strewn, swathed in moonlight. They lay, limbs tangled, bodies fitted together. He could feel her heartbeat, a steady thrum where her wrist touched his shoulder, where her inner-thigh pressed against his leg. Slow, serene breaths tickled his neck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Many Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I told my followers that I would accept sentence prompts...and they got back to me with some GREAT sentences. So here's a collection of the one-shots I made to match!
> 
>  
> 
> http://just-quintessentially-me.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
> 
>  
> 
> “I swear I remember cleaning the floor earlier.”

Levi trudged up the narrow stairwell. With every step, wearied muscles throbbed, a protesting ache. The expedition had been…rough.

It had been one of _those_ trips, in which every inch earned amongst the rough terrain had been soaked in soldier’s blood. They’d returned to the wall, their mission complete, but sixty men and women lighter – a third of their soldiers, gone.

As Levi climbed, he trailed a hand along the wall, feeling cold stone; it grounded him. He needed to stay present. _God, did he need to stay present_. The past was an unforgiving place.

In the hall, he began working at his leather straps. By the time he reached his door, he’d managed to get the top straps loosened. He could breathe.

With a twist of the handle, the door swung in. The hall’s light trickled in, lighting a sliver of floor.

In the dim light he saw it: a smudge, and then beyond it, a scuff of brown.

Levi frowned, hesitating in the doorway. He swore he remembered cleaning the floor earlier. In fact, he was sure. In the hours before the expedition, he’d taken a sponge to the rough wood. It had calmed him.

Letting the door swing fully open, warm light poured into the room, revealing a set of muddy tracks that crossed his floor.

At that point, he should have known. Was there anyone else in the corps who treated his space so casually?

Yet still, when he found her wedged between his dresser and bed, knees drawn up and cheeks dirty, streaked with tears and mud, something in his chest jumped.

He knew, _this too_ , was Hanji Zoe – but it was easy to forget. Even he was sometimes lulled by her daytime routine. Wild eyes, an exuberant laugh, and a body abuzz with excited motion did well to hide this other half.

But he should know, strength was transient; a strained, cyclical ebb and flow. You broke, and picked yourself back up, pressing the jagged pieces into an almost cohesive whole, until you inevitably broke again.

After all these years, they must be a sight – a web of cracks and fissures, full of nothing but sharp scraps, broken too many times to ever quite fit.

But they didn’t stop.

Why would they? Still, he thought, it was better to be broken and alive than broken and dead.

And so he knelt before her, first, reaching for her arms. Ignoring the blood that hardened the fabric, he ran his hands up and down her sleeves, letting her feel his touch.

When her head dipped and she breathed a ragged breath, he reached for her hands. Her hands, which were normally warm, had taken a chill. Pressing her palms together, he folded his hands around them. Pulling them up, he pressed his lips to her knuckles; as if that, alone, could mend so many invisible cracks.

Holding fast to her hands, he drew her from the shadows.

A shower cured her shivers. Nonetheless, freshly toweled, he slipped his long, thick nightshirt over her head.

In bed, she wordlessly scooted over, giving him room.

When they laid in the dark, fingers brushing, nearly nose-to-nose, she explained, she’d lost all but one of her squad; that there wasn’t anything she could have done – but _god_ , there should have been. They shouldn’t have to be so helpless in this world.

Her words inevitably gave in to tears, because life was indeed an ebb and flow, and in this moment, her strength waned. Tonight, she was so many broken pieces.

And so, hands cupping her cheeks, he pressed a kiss to her lips, her forehead, her nose. Bit by bit, he’d put her back together again, make her jagged pieces whole.

After all, she’d done the same for him, too many times to count.

It was a cycle; give and take, ebb and flow.

They were broken, their bodies nothing more than patchworks of crude pieces, poorly fitting with jagged edges. But he’d fix her, and she him, mending with bloody palms what was sharp and broken, until the day at last, when there would be nothing left to fix.


	2. Campfire Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I never realized how much I loved marshmallows!”

“I never realized how much I loved marshmallows!”

Levi cringed at the sheer volume of the exclamation.

Across the fire, Hanji waved a marshmallow-stacked stick in the air. It had caught fire.

“Tch. I told you it was too close to the fire.”

With the blaze put out, Hanji grinned. She squeezed the marshmallows between her finger and thumb, testing them. “How else was I supposed to get them crispy?”

“Um, Scout Leader Hanji,” Armin squeaked, “I don’t think marshmallows are supposed to be crispy.” His own marshmallow laden stick dangled a safe distance from the flames. Like the rest of the youngsters around the fire, Armin was dressed in brown khakis, boots, and a cap – the standard uniform of the Outdoor Exploring Scouts.

He and Hanji wore uniforms of their own. Their uniforms, basically bigger versions of the scout’s outfits, were ugly as hell; but they were comfortable. And Levi counted himself lucky that as a scout leader, he at least didn’t have to wear the hat.  

At the edge of the circle, there was a crack.

Sasha’s voice rose in a wine. “Scout leaders! Eren and Jean are fighting with their sticks again!”

Levi sat up. Sure enough, from where they sat between Marco and Mikassa, the young boys were on their knees, wailing on one another with their willowy marshmallow roasting sticks.

“Hey! That’s enough! Don’t make me dangle you over the fire pit.”

Immediate silence.

Sticks clattered to the ground as the two boys dropped into their seats.

Hanji plopped a blackened marshmallow in her mouth. “As volunteer scoutmasters, I don’t think its within our rights to dangle children over campfires.”

He shrugged, “I have a strong grip. I wouldn’t drop them in – probably.”

Around the fire, young scouts’ eyes widened. Jean and Eren scooted back.

At their reaction, Levi grinned.

Hanji full-out laughed. She knew he wouldn’t actually do it – that he just liked to mess with them every once in a while. But the scouts didn’t know that. And he wanted to keep it that way. A healthy dose of fear was good, especially if it made the rambunctious punks behave.

“Alright!” Eyes bright, Hanji stabbed her stick in the ground as if it were a spear. “Who’s ready for some…” She leaned forward. Flames danced between her glasses’ frames, reflecting in the glass. Her lips curved up in a predatory grin. “… _scary stories?_ ”

Connie and Sasha howled their approval.

Armin clutched at Hanji’s sleeve. Firelight reflected in his wide eyes.

Levi shrugged. “I take it you have one?”

She chuckled. “Oh, do I have one.” She took a breath. But before she could begin, he held up a hand.

“Before this starts, let me make one thing clear – this story, whatever it is, is going to be fuc-” he caught himself, “ _really_ scary.” He didn’t know what exactly went on in Hanji’s head, but she had an unparalleled imagination. “If you guys get scared in the middle of the night, you wake _her_ up, not me. Got it?”

“Ah, but Levi, we’re in the same tent-” Hanji said, speaking up.

“Doesn’t matter. Wake her up. Not me.”

“Aw, Levi. You’re underestimating them.” She leaned forward, hands gripping her knees. “You guys are brave enough to handle a tale of horror and adventure – right?”

Save for Armin, the kids around the fire raised their voices in confirmation.

Hanji rubbed her hands together. Her smile had taken a rather manic edge. “How to begin such a grim tale?” She looked around the fire. “Once upon a time seems too pleasant a start for this story…but it will have to do.” Her voice dipped. “Once upon a time – there were monsters.”

The children leaned in.

The fire crackled. Embers rose in flurries from the flame.

“Monsters like you and I have never seen. Giant beasts, whose towering forms stretched up into the sky. Naked and gangly they stumbled across the earth, grinning like children. And do you know what they liked to eat?”

Around the fire heads shook.

Hanji leaned in, voice dropping low. “ _Humans.”_

As she spoke the word, a cold shiver wormed its way up his back. Levi shifted in his seat. He had no idea where she came up with this shit, but he had to give her credit, Hanji knew how to spin a tale.

As she went on to describe the giant, grinning beasts in detail and their single-minded drive to consume humans, the scouts who’d first leaned eagerly in shrunk back. As the tale wore on, the circle tightened as the kids pressed closer together. By the time Hanji told, in a hushed whisper, about how not even towering walls could keep the creatures out, the children sat shoulder to shoulder.

She was interrupted by Armin’s wail.

Tears in his eyes, he clung to her sleeve. “ _I don’t want them to eat me!”_

Hanji’s mouth dropped open. Hands, which had lifted to describe one of the giant beasts, fell at her sides.

Shoulder’s hunched, Armin pressed his hands to his face. Sniffles escaped from between his small fingers.

For a second, Hanji looked utterly lost. “Armin – oh no – don’t cry!” Scooting in front of him, she gripped his shoulder. “It’s not real Armin. It’s just some story that popped in my head.” She cupped her hand beneath his chin. “The monsters aren’t real. They’re not going to eat you.”

With one last sniffle, he reluctantly dropped his hands. “But what if they are, and we just don’t know it?”

Levi crossed his arms. That was certainly an odd thing to say.

Hanji must have thought so too. She tilted her head. After a long pause, she answered. “They’re not. And even if they were, you’d have nothing to worry about. Levi’d kill them for us.”

His head snapped up. “I’d what?”

She smiled over her shoulder. “You’d take care of them.” She narrowed her eyes, glancing pointedly in Armin’s direction. “Right?”

There was no helping it. She was dragging him into this. He sighed. “Yeah, I’d get rid of them. Slice their necks. Kill them on the spot.”

The statement was unfounded, he was a computer programmer for god’s sake. But for whatever reason, the scouts seemed to buy into it. They sat back, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

Hanji clapped her hands. “Alright! Time to turn in for the night! Bertolt, Reiner, could you put out the fire?” She stood. “If you have to go to the bathroom before bed, come with me now, I’m walking to the outhouse.” She switched on her flashlight.

Connie swallowed, looking warily into the surrounding darkness. “Maybe Levi can take us?”

Hanji perched a hand on her hip. “Please. You think I can’t handle monsters too?” Lifting the flashlight, she waved. “Come on.”

Trailing behind her, the children obediently followed.

While they were gone, Levi inspected the tents with a flashlight, making sure no bugs had managed to infiltrate the tents’ tarp walls.

When everyone returned, he and Hanji helped the scouts settle into their tents. They waited another five minutes to make sure everyone _stayed_ in their tents, before going to bed.

His and Hanji’s tent was a nice two-person pup. It was the perfect size. Just enough room for he and Hanji to lay, their sleeping bags stretched out side-by-side. It was comfortable.

By morning, it was significantly less so. Levi woke to find a foot in his face and the tent packed to the brim with ten additional, tiny, slumbering bodies.

_Hanji’s story-telling privileges were officially revoked._


	3. The Slime Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The slime was everywhere and it was green and brownish and a little pink."

It had not escaped the attention of Hanji Zoe that Titans shared a surprising number of similarities with plants. The ability to regenerate, lightness of form, and responsiveness to sunlight, being just a few. Following reason, one might even conclude that plants and Titans were _biologically related_. Maybe. It was a working theory.

But like all theories, it deserved proper study and experimentation.

As she’d completed many experiments on Titans, Hanji decided that if the plant theory was to be given its due diligence, logically, she’d have to complete at least a few trials involving plants.

At first she’d started small, mainly observations. Putting a wide variety of fauna in different conditions, testing their responses to varying degrees of temperature and light. From there, she graduated to methodically slicing at the foliage as a means of measuring the average plant’s regenerative abilities. 

After that, the experiments really got interesting.

For want of a better means to test the plant’s responses to artificial stimuli (she didn’t want to risk killing the plants with every exposure), she’d resorted to collecting individual cuttings and storing them in vials. Once in the vials, she could administer whatever solution she pleased and then watch and measure its effect on each plant.

It was foolproof. Or so she’d thought.

It was on day eight of her plant experimentation that it happened. She’d been going through her usual routine, collecting plant cuttings and placing them in vials. Wanting to try a saline solution on her subjects, she opened a cupboard and peered up at the shelves. Her desired jar was at the top of the cabinet, tucked near the back.

Pressing up on her toes, she stretched her arm as far as it would reach. Though she could easily reach the top shelf, the jars at the back eluded her grasp by a few inches. She sighed and wondered if this was how Levi felt on a daily basis. No wonder he was so grumpy.

Bracing a knee on the counter, she grabbed the underside of the cabinet and began to pull herself up. At precisely that moment, everything went wrong.

The cabinet jolted beneath her hands as the lab rang with an ominous _crack_. She looked up to see the cabinet tilt forward. She had just enough time to surmise that her weight had tugged its upper screws loose from the wall. But then glass containers were slipping. With wide eyes, she watched countless jars and beakers slide over the tilted wood. As the first containers slipped from the cupboard, glinting as they tumbled through the air, she pushed herself back, falling from the counter.

It was an explosion of liquid and glass. Rolling, she covered her head.

When the cacophonous shattering ceased, she sat up. Miraculously, she’d avoided most of the splash, save for the edge of one sleeve that was pockmarked with several steaming holes. Unfortunately, her plants hadn’t been so lucky. Standing, she got a good view of the destruction and groaned. Glass covered parent plants and vialed foliage alike. Quivering leaves dripped with a blend of liquids. Her experiments were soaked.

She’d taken a step towards the ruined experiments when a noise gave her pause. It was a sharp hiss, and it’s origin seemed to be within her collection of plants. No more than a second later, steam began to rise between leaves, first a few tentative bursts, and then all at once. When leaves started to bubble, she took a step back.

For the first time, she considered the wide variety of chemicals and solutions that had been housed in those jars. There were certainly chemicals in the mixture that were simply not meant to mix.

When green, viscous slime began to ooze down stalks and pool on the table, she circled her desk, putting it between her and the plants.

When the bubbling reached a crescendo and the slime began to splatter and pop – she ducked.

An explosion rocked the room.

Luckily, she’d had the forethought to crawl beneath the desk, because the explosion was closely followed by a liquid pattering. From her spot beneath the desk, she watched slime splatter the room, striking every surface with the indifference of falling rain.

When the sounds of falling slime at long last silenced, she grasped the underside of the desk and levied herself up, daring to take a peek.

The slime was everywhere and it was green and brownish and a little pink. The thick, dripping liquid coated counters, desks, and most of the floor. Even the ceiling had taken several hits.

Stepping away from the desk, she tiptoed, hopping between clear spots of floor. When she managed to reach a semi-circle of goo-less floor, she blew out a breath. Pressing her sleeve against her mouth and nose, as whatever slime she’d managed to concoct had begun to smell of sulfur and rot, she looked over the room. It was a new record, of that she was sure. This had to be the biggest mess she had ever managed to create.

At the far end of the lab, the door swung open. “Shitty-glasses, what the _hell_ was that-”

Levi took a step into the room and immediately silenced. His eyes slowly shifted, rolling over the gooey epicenter of ruined plants, to the ceiling, and then back to the floor, to the desks which had arguably taken the worst of the slime, and finally – to her.

A nervous laugh bubbled from her chest. Scratching the back of her head, she managed a grin. “Eren’s still on cleaning duty right? Maybe you could lend him to me for the afternoon?”

Levi blinked several times in quick succession.

For a terrible second, she wondered if with this mess, she’d finally broken him.

He turned on his heel.

“Levi?”

He twisted, pointing an authoritative finger in her direction. “You made literal plant shit. Don’t move, you’ll just track it everywhere.”

“Where are you going?”

Shoulders hunched, he marched from the room. “Bleach. I’m getting a lot of fucking bleach.”


	4. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And with those final, sassy words, Hanji had broken Levi once again.”
> 
> Warning: Major Character Death (I'm sooorrryyyyyy)

_Step by step, heart to heart_  
_Left, right, left, we all fall down_  
 _Like toy soldiers._

 _Bit by bit, torn apart_  
_We never win, But the battle wages on_  
 _For toy soldiers._

 _-_ Martika, _Toy Soldier_

* * *

 

It was Hanji who made the comparison.

They were riding through town, returning from a failed expedition when Hanji suddenly stopped.

With a tug to his reins, he abruptly stopped behind her. An obscenity was ready at his lips, because god damn-it he was _tired_. But he caught sight of her expression and the words fell away.

Neck twisted, she stared towards the side of the road. Her grimy goggles caught the glare of the falling sun, as her lips pressed together, in neither a smile nor a frown. Her hands rested in her lap and leather reins dangled loose in her palms.

He followed her stare.

A girl and a boy crouched in the dirt, just beyond the road. Between them, they’d arranged painted figurines in a line. Coated in shades of blue and green, miniature buttons dotted their fronts and needle-like swords had been stuck to their hands. Toy soldiers. Gears clicked within their metal bodies, making the soldiers’ legs lift and fall in tiny, jerking steps.

Hanji breathed, “That’s us.”

For a second, Levi thought she was talking about the children. He about ready to tell her that he didn’t think there was any universe in which she, as a child, would have the patience to sit in one place and play with toys, when he realized: she wasn’t talking about the children at all – but about their toys.

Head tilted, she watched the metal soldiers march across the dirt.

Levi watched them too.

Painted eyes stared blankly ahead. Sightless, the mechanical soldiers marched stiffly forward. Legs fastened with crude joints lifted tiny black boots just high enough to shuffle over dry dirt. Unable to deviate from the path in which they’d been set, the toys marched until either a watchful hand snatched them back, or their boots inevitably caught upon a stray stick or stone and they collapsed in the dirt, legs jerking uselessly until their winding gears at last ran out.

Levi didn’t need to ask Hanji what she’d meant by _us_. The comparison was clear. Venturing again and again beyond the walls, trusting not only in Erwin’s overarching plan, but that every new step wouldn’t lead them to a Titan’s jaws – what were they in the Survey Corps, if not toy soldiers?

While the children were distracted, arguing amongst themselves, a soldier painted in green tipped over, tumbling from where the walkway raised over the road. When his tiny, metal body struck the ground, his torso snapped, bending forward. A spring danced, dangling from his back.

The arguing at once ceased; small fingers plucked the broken toy from the dirt. Mangled toy in hand, the boy tilted his head back and wailed.

Caught up in the metaphor Hanji had so carelessly woven, Levi stared, horrified, at the bent and broken toy.

Hanji was already off her horse and crossing the road in sure, steady steps. Kneeling in front of the children, she held out her hand. “There’s no need to cry. Let me see him.”

Rubbing a grubby hand over his face, the child looked reluctantly between the toy and the woman kneeling in the dirt.

She smiled. “I can’t try to fix him unless you hand him over.”

Sniffling, the boy deposited the toy in her palm.

Crouched, heedless of the dust collecting where the edge of her cloak dragged in the dirt, she inspected the toy. Fingers that had hours ago clutched a dying comrade’s hand, now picked at the toy, twisting rogue gears back into place. Dried blood still stained her cuticles.

The rest of the survey corps had long since passed, but Levi stayed, watching her work. How many times had she fixed him, too?

Levi related, perhaps too well, to the toy soldier in her hands.

He was _Humanities’ Strongest_ , but she was one of the few who seemed to understand that he too, could break, just like anyone else.

When he’d returned from his first trip beyond the wall with Isabel and Farlan’s blood dried and hardened on his cloak, she’d found him. He resisted her words of comfort, her friendly touch, countering them with curses and threats of violence. She wasn’t dissuaded.

Weeks later, when he’d found Isabel’s candy, forgotten in one of his bags, he broke. When she found him, bent double, nearly collapsed in his room, he accepted her touch and finally, let her fix him.

Years later when he returned, this time with four stained Survey Corps patches pressed into his palm, he sought her out. He held her as scalding water poured over them both, pink water pooling around their feet and slipping down the drain. Her voice was a low, soothing murmur against his ear and her hands a fortifying pressure at his back.

Like a broken, mangled toy, again, she’d fixed him.

Standing, she presented the toy to the child with a grin. “Just like new!”

Hands on her hips, she watched the children scamper away, their arms laden with the small army.

And he watched her.

When she turned, meeting his gaze, she blinked and her smile momentarily faded, giving way to an expression of confusion.

The excuse emerged from his lips, automatic. “Your hands are filthy. I’m going to make sure you clean them when we get back, if I have to shove them in a soapy bucket myself.”

The smile returned. “Can I use some of your soap? The stuff that smells like flowers and fresh laundry.”

He didn’t answer. But last he checked, he’d left the soap in her bathroom anyway.

She called over her shoulder. “But I’ll have to make it fast! Got to start compiling my research before the next expedition. Two weeks isn’t much time!” Her eyes glistened. “Just wait, I’m going to catch an abnormal!”

And so she had.

But it caught her too.

Two weeks later, she released an arsenal of arrows into a Titan’s side. As she swung away its gangly hand shot up, snatching her cable from the air.

He was close enough to see her eyes widen in shock – and then her cable snapped and she was gone, flung into the nearest tree.

The Titan was dealt with in a single, vicious stroke. He barely remembered swinging the blade. What he did remember was the shape of her body in the grass, her limbs flung out and one arm bent back. And he would always remember, as he shot towards her, the way his heart had thudded a hard, painful rhythm in his chest.

When he reached her, her shirt was stained red. At her stomach, the fabric was torn. She’d been gouged.

Levi tore off his cloak. Balling it up, he pressed it against the wound. Meanwhile, he glanced over his shoulder, looking for help. Their people were scattered. A wave of Titans had caught them by surprise, throwing the formation in chaos.

“I need a medic!” His shout echoed between the trees.

No response.

“ _Damn it.”_ He’d have to move her. Take her to find aid. He’d just begun to reach beneath her, when she opened her eyes.

“Levi?”

He propped her up, his hand beneath her back. “Come on four-eyes, we’re gonna get you help.”

She blinked slowly. “What’s my damage?” she spoke, her voice low and lethargic.

“Your clumsy ass hit a tree.”

She winced, then chuckled. “Funny. It feels like my stomach.”

“My horse is close.” Gripping beneath her arms, he made to rise.

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“Legs won’t work.”

He adjusted his grip. “I’ll carry you then.”

“Levi?”

“ _What_?”

Her next admission was quiet. “I’m starting to lose feeling in my arms.”

 _Shit_. Levi had been on enough battlefields to know what that meant. She’d lost too much blood. As quickly and carefully as he could, he lowered her back to the ground. If she was losing blood from her stomach, he needed to keep her flat.

His hands returned to his cloak, attempting to staunch its flow. Grimacing, he looked around them.

“Oi! Anyone out there? We need help!”

The seconds stretched by.

“ _Shit!”_

He felt a tap on his arm. Her hand wavered in the air.

“What is it?”

“Hold it.” She swallowed. “Please.”

Bracing one hand against the wound, he snatched it up with his other. “Hey, shit-head. Don’t look at me like that.”

Her fingers squeezed, tangling with his. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about ready to fucking read me your will.”

“Moblit already has it. All my personal belongings are to be sold-” she broke off, coughing. “To fund…Titan research.”

“Of course they fucking are.”

Silence stretched between them.

He tried again. “I need a medic!”

When he next looked down, her breaths had slowed. She spoke, a murmur. “I can’t feel much of anything anymore.”

His chest hurt. The thudding behind his ribs was quickly transforming into a throbbing pain.

“Asshole, get up. Go fight some Titans.” She coughed, grinning. Blood welled up between her teeth. “Sorry, I can’t join you – this time.”

He clutched at her hand, nails digging into the back of her knuckles. His throat ached and his lips drew back in a snarl. “ _Don’t._ ”

Her eyes shifted back and forth, and her forehead creased, as if she was determined to commit to memory, each and every line of his face. She swallowed. The action caused blood to bubble up in her mouth. It popped, splattering her chin and neck with flecks or red.

Clenching the fabric of his cloak, he redoubled the pressure on her wound. He shouted over his shoulder, “ _God damn-it!_ We need help!”

“Levi.”

The truth was before him, in the hollow rasp of her voice, her weakening grasp against his hand. But he didn’t want to hear it. He squeezed her fingers. “ _Shut up._ Shut the _fuck up,_ shitty-glasses _._ Save your energy.”

“ _Levi.”_

The way she said his name made something in his chest start to unravel. Or maybe it was a gear coming loose, slipping hopelessly out of place.

Swallowing around the tight, painful lump in his throat, he met her eyes.

Despite the blood and her increasingly labored breaths, she smiled.

His chest ached. He imagined another rusted gear breaking off, falling away.

Dry, chapped lips parted. Her throat worked, but nothing came out. For the first time, she looked distressed.

Against his better judgment, he abandoned his grip on the blood-soaked cloak. His hand, moving of its own accord, cupped the side of her head. Fingers brushed the worn leather straps of her goggles, as his thumb traced a fumbling pattern against her cheek.

“Hey-” His voice caught in his throat. “ _Fuck._ Four-eyes. It’s okay.”

She coughed and her chest heaved beneath his arm. With it, she forced sound, weak and grating from her throat.

“Keep…marching.” Through parted lips, she drew a labored breath. “You’ll be okay…I promise.”

He was going to argue, say that the blood loss must be affecting her head. She was supposed to be smart, _didn’t she know anything at all?_

But she’d gone still. The hand he gripped was limp and her brown eyes stared up, unseeing.

And with those final words, Hanji had broken Levi once again. Broken, as he’d been after Farlan and Isabel, after Petra, and Oluo, and Gunther, and Eld. But who the hell was going to patch him up, help a toy soldier put together his ruined, broken pieces _now_? It had always been her.

In the distance, he could hear pained screams. The ground beneath his knees rumbled. They were coming.

Standing, he lifted a foot, managing a shaky step, and then another. Stepping away from her crumpled form, he drew his blades. His joints felt stiff and he imagined something in his chest might be irreparably broken, but he nonetheless marched ahead, facing the enemy like a good toy soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me :(((((((((((((((


	5. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanji stumbles upon Levi rehearsing…a proposal?

“Ask Levi about capturing a Titan, finish reading the reports, get a snack, report to Erwin, and if time – take a shower.” Humming the to-do list under her breath, Hanji jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

If she was lucky, the talk with Levi wouldn’t take long. Though they had kept it quiet, for the better part of the last two years they’d been in a relationship. Well…they’d had _relations_. Levi wasn’t the most communicative of partners and she hadn’t felt the need to label whatever they had between them. But nonetheless, whatever it was, it _did_ give her a bit of leverage when dealing with her short, grumpy captain. And she was not at all ashamed to use this leverage to convince him to help her capture Titans.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, taking a moment to slow her breaths. When they were even, she crossed the hall in quick strides. She raised her fist to knock on his door. When a gust of air struck her face, she stepped back, surprised.

Adjusting her glasses, she noticed that the door hadn’t been completely closed. In the small gap between door and frame, a cool breeze gusted through. And that’s when she heard it: the rise and fall of a voice. Someone was speaking.

Tilting her head, she pressed her ear against the narrow gap. Levi’s low voice, picked up and carried on the light breeze, reached her ear.

“Shitty-glasses.”

She jumped. Thinking she was caught, she reached for the handle, mentally whipping up a speech as to why, _really_ , eavesdropping wasn’t so bad.

“Fuck. I mean, Hanji Zoe.” A pause. “Damn it, this is never going to work. I can’t even say her god-damn name.”

Fingers against cool metal, she halted. Levi wasn’t talking to her – but to himself? Well that was certainly interesting. Brow creasing, she leaned in, bracing her hands on her knees. Levi was far from the most talkative of individuals, so she reasoned it was only natural for her to be curious about what he had to say when he thought no one was listening. With her eavesdropping suitably justified, she pressed an ear flat against the gap.

He cleared his throat. The sound was rough, strained. “You know I’m fucking awful with words and shit.”

Her lips twitched. At least he was aware. That had to count for something.

Muffled taps sounded through the door, and she realized he must be pacing.

“So just give me a second to try to get this out.” A sigh. “First of all, you’re fucking disgusting.”

Hanji’s brows slowly lifted.

“You don’t bathe nearly enough, you walk around with stains from god-knows-what all over your clothes, and some days I seriously believe you’ve found a way to get _literal_ shit on yourself, because there could be no other explanation for why you smell so fucking awful.”

The pacing paused, and then picked up in earnest.

“And don’t get me started on everything else. Shit, you don’t take care of yourself – working odd hours, forgetting to sleep, to eat, patching up your wounds with all the skill of a five-year old, just…fucking running yourself into the ground.”

“You’re shit.” He took a breath. “But you’re my shit…and honestly, I’m kind of shit too.”

She listened with an open mouth. She couldn’t deny the accusations against her, they were all true - except for the literal shit part. She usually made a point to steer clear of actual fecal matter.

But as the last phrase left his lips, quieter than the rest. She leaned in, her curiosity piqued once more.

A heavy sigh. “Obviously, like I said before, I’m shit with words. I’m fucking awful at expressing myself, and when I do, ninety-five percent of the time I come off sounding like an asshole. And sometimes I am! I can be a fucking ass.” His voice tapered off. “I’m rough around the edges, and unlike you, I – fuck – I’m not good using words to say, I love you.”

He snorted. “Fuck. This is god-awful.” Nonetheless, he cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is – you’re shit and I’m shit. Together, we’re shit.”

A pause.

“I mean, it’s good. Yeah, you’re disgusting, but I make up for it by making sure to throw you in a bath at least once a week. And I’m shit with words, but somehow, you understand me every time. I don’t fucking know how you do it, but you do. And even though you’re the worst when it comes to taking care of yourself, I-” He coughed. “I don’t mind checking to see if you ate, because it gives me an excuse to eat with you. And changing your bandages isn’t too fucking awful because I can touch you in public and no one is the wiser. And I really don’t mind making sure you sleep, because, god, it means that for one fucking night I can have you to myself.”

Hanji’s hand had risen to her chest. As he spoke, she squeezed, clenching the fabric of her shirt.

“And shit, this is stupid. And it’s reckless to think it, let alone say it out loud, but I want to have _this_ – whatever messy, shitty thing we have for as long as I possibly can. Whether we kick the bucket tomorrow or fifty-years from now, I want fucking _all of it_.”

As she listened, she found that she could feel the steady thrum of her heart from the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her toes.

Levi took a breath. “So, uh, will you…Fucking shit.” He groaned. It was followed by the heavy creak of springs.

She imagined him, arms spread out, splayed over the bed.

“I can’t even say it.” A short, harsh laugh. “Shit. It was a nice thought.”

Hanji kicked in the door.

Levi jerked up as the door slammed, rebounding off the wall.

But Hanji was already across the room. “Humanity’s Strongest my ass.” With that, she launched herself at him.

He had just enough time to raise his arms before she landed. Knees bouncing on the mattress, she grabbed his wrists, attempting to pin him to the bed.

“Four-eyes, what the hell?” Growling, Levi tensed his arms, locking them in place.

Holding tight to his wrists, which stubbornly hovered half a foot above the bed, she leaned down until she met his eyes. “Don’t be a chicken-shit, if you want to say it, _say it!_ ”

He bared his teeth. “Fucking eavesdropper.”

She panted, squeezing him with her knees. “Yeah, good thing! How else was I going to find out-” She yelped. He’d bucked his hips, suddenly flipping them. With her back against the bed and straining against hands that now held _her_ wrists to the mattress, she stubbornly continued, “-that Levi Ackerman is a romantic little shit.”

“What did you call me?”

“A Romantic. Little. Shit.”

He turned away, and she was pleased to note the tips of his ears had turned the slightest shade of pink. Puckering her lips, she blew a sharp breath into his ear.

He jerked back. “Fucking hell!”

She fought back, pressing up against his hands. “Say it Levi!”

Digging his knees into the bed, he slowly pushed her hands down to the mattress. “None – of – your – business.”

“Oh you’ve got to be – o _f course it’s my business!_ ” She strained up. “Say it! Levi, if you don’t-”

“Marry me!”

His chest rose and fell in quick pants. His cheeks were flushed. Now that she’d forced the confession from his lips, his gray eyes were steady, fastened upon her.

Where his hands still clutched at her wrists, her pulse pounded, rapid, strong. She huffed an unsteady breath. “Of course, you asshole.”

And then his lips were on hers, pressing a rough, impatient kiss against her mouth. He released her wrists, instead, bracing his hands against the mattress on either side of her head as he dipped down, deepening the kiss.

The second her hands were free, they were on him, tracing over his sides, skirting over the skin bared beneath the climbing fabric of his shirt, and finally, at his back, dragging him closer.

Between lingering kisses, she spoke against his mouth. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

He nipped at her lip. “So are you.”

He’d begun to press kisses over her jaw and down her throat when it occurred to her, “Should we even have a wedding or just go out in some field and make Erwin marry us?” She paused. “He can do that right?”

Levi groaned against her skin. “Later four-eyes.” He tugged up her shirt, nipping at the newly exposed skin.

She closed her eyes, her hips automatically rolling up. Later indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal headcanon is that Levi wouldn't ask Hanji to marry him - that they'd be intimate, cohabitate, and for all intents and purposes, BE married, but that Levi would never feel the need to label it for the world. That - or Hanji would randomly decide that they should get married and he'd just go along with it.
> 
> That said, it was a ton of fun imagining what he might say if he WAS so inclined to propose.


	6. Hold Me - With a Side of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want no damage but how I’m gonna manage you.”

It was a cold morning. And not the kind of cold that leaves the air crisp and the world feeling fresh and new. It was cold that nipped at extremities and then soaked into your skin, leaving in it’s wake, sore bones and aching lungs.

To add insult to injury, the wind had picked up overnight. So as he walked to work, hands shoved as deep within his pockets as the lining would allow, brown leaves swirled in the air. He did his best to skirt the dry, scratchy projectiles as the wind tore at his coat, nipping any exposed skin.

Above, dull gray clouds, caught in the bluster, stretched, spreading thin across the sky. They fit his mood.

Ducking his chin as far into his buttoned coat as was physically possible, Levi marched down the sidewalk. Since the lapels of his coat didn’t quite cover the chilled area of his chin, his frown was on display for the world to see - not that he cared. No one should be expected to be happy on a such a cold, miserable day.

If there was one thing Levi hated, it was being cold. It was a hatred he’d borne since childhood, which his mother had combated by sending him to school with two coats, a scarf and gloves, and double layered socks when the seasons turned to winter. So great was his hatred of the cold, that it was preceded only by one thing: his hatred of people who had the audacity to be happy on days that were clearly meant for misery. Days such as today.

He’d had just about enough of the biting wind and the flurries of leaves when he turned the corner, and there it was: Sina Coffee and Tea. Ducking his head to avoid a particularly virulent gust, Levi shouldered his way through the door. 

The second the warm, aromatic air struck his numbed face, his shoulders loosened. Dragging his hands from his coat, he wiggled his fingers, clenching and unclenching them in the toasty shop. If he stayed another five minutes there was a chance his fingertips would regain feeling. He was unbuttoning his jacket, determined to let the shop’s warmth sink into his clothes, when he heard it – a low, melodic humming.

The space behind the counter was empty. But the door to the kitchen was cracked, and as he slowly approached the counter, the hum crescendoed. From the cracked door, he could just barely make out mumbled words.

Something clattered in the back, and then-

“I don’t want no damage! But how I’m gonna manage _youuuu_!”

Levi stared.

The low, melodic hums were no more. Belting the chorus, the mystery singer’s voice had transformed to a pitchy wail.

“ _You_ hold the percentage, but I’m the fool payin’ the _dueees_!”

The chorus was followed by another bang.

Where they…dancing too?

“I’m just around the corner-”

He couldn’t believe it. It was actually getting louder.

“If you got a minute to spare, I’ll be waiting for _youuu_!”

Reaching for the silver bell that sat upon the counter, Levi slapped his palm down. Repeatedly.  And for a horrible second, the pitchy singing and the dinging bell joined together, a grating harmony.

As the dings persistently rang through the shop, the singing abruptly cut off.

A head poked through the door.

The first thing he noticed was _hair_. Dark brown and tangled, the woman had tied it up in the most half-assed ponytail he’d ever seen. She’d missed a good chunk of hair at the bottom, and the hair that _was_ tied up, stuck out in odd directions.

Brown eyes, a shade lighter than her hair, were slightly obscured by glasses, of which the lenses were horribly smudged.

She burst through the door, and when she smiled it seemed to take up half her face. “Welcome! Sorry about the wait - didn’t hear you come in.”

He muttered under his breath, “Wonder why…”

She propped her elbows on the counter, and he was met with an attentive stare. “What can I get for you?”

For a moment, Levi could only stare back. Maybe it was the hair, which had to be defying some law of physics, or perhaps the particularly grimy smudge on her left lens that he had to resist the urge to wipe away, or maybe it was the wide smile that stretched across her face, unnatural – inconsistent with such a dismal day.

For whatever reason, she’d put him off balance.

And so, he spoke the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve never seen you here before.” 

He’d been coming to this particular coffee and tea joint for the better part of the last two years. If the singing monstrosity had worked here in the past, he was more than positive he would remember her.

“I’m new! I started yesterday.” The woman straightened, patting her hands over her bright blue apron. He could still see the crease lines where the material had been folded, probably in its package. She looked up and her gaze, sharp and focused, was on him once more. “So what’ll it be?”

This time, at least, he had an answer. “Black tea.”

“Black tea it is.” She hopped up, energetic and quick. After setting the water to heat, she stood on her toes, digging through the tea cupboard that dangled above the counter. Setting a teabag aside, she turned back. “Oh – and that’ll be one-fifty.”

Levi already had the money out – exact change.

She held out her hand.

As he tipped the dollar and two quarters into her waiting palm, their fingers brushed. She gave a start.

“Yikes! You’re freezing!”

Before he could muster a response, perhaps something along the lines that it was rude to comment on a customer’s hand temperature, she reached across the counter and grabbed up his hands.

Warm. The long fingers encircling his hands were warm. Between the callouses that marked the junctures of her fingers, her skin was soft.

His mouth dropped open. “Hey-” He started to tug back, but she held fast to his hands.

“Not so fast. Give me a minute – I’ll get these puppies warm.” Pressings his palms together, she rubbed back and forth across the backs of his hands. She talked as she worked, chafing his skin warm. “I’ve been told I’m a first-rate hand warmer.”

He started to pull away again, but she tugged his hands back. “Hold _on_. Do you _enjoy_ having icicles for fingers?”

Of course he didn’t. But the feeling of her fingers rubbing back and forth over the backs of his hands, combined with the brown eyes that peeked out from where her glasses had begun to slide down her nose…well, they were making something in his stomach flip. It was an uncomfortable sensation. One he’d yet to decide if he liked.

Finally, she released him, stepping back with a smile. “Done! Nice and warm.”

He drew back his hands, clenching and unclenching them as he pulled them back against his chest. The persistent chill had faded from his knuckles. They were warm.

She slid the cup across the counter. “This will help keep them toasty.”

He didn’t think it was likely. The wind outside was a first rate bitch. But nonetheless, he picked up the drink, nodding his thanks.

Turning away from the counter, he drew the cup to his lips, already beginning to mentally prepare for a return to the cold. The scalding liquid poured down his throat, sharp and bitter. Levi’s steps hesitated. He frowned. _Too_ sharp. _Too_ bitter.

He couldn’t believe it. Was it even _possible_ to screw up tea? Apparently so, because somehow, she’d managed to do it.

He glanced slowly over his shoulder. Already back in motion, the woman was digging for something beneath the register. Her mop of messy hair bobbed, just visible over the counter.

“Oi – this tea is awful.”

Something crashed. He could hear the clatter of many tiny _somethings_ falling to the floor. She jerked up, slapping her palms down on the counter. “ _Really?_ ” 

And then she was speaking quickly, mumbling under her breath – something about crushed tea leaves and coffee grounds.

Levi glanced dubiously down at the cup. What _exactly_ had she given him?

“Ah, sorry! I’m sorry! Give it back, I’ll make you a new one.”

Levi  glanced at his watch. He was already running late. And Erwin was annoying as hell when Levi arrived more than fifteen minutes behind schedule.

Levi blew out an annoyed breath. Hot, shitty tea, he supposed, was slightly better than no tea at all. _Slightly_. “It’s fine. I’m running late.” Tugging his coat tight, he made for the door.

“Wait!”

Hand on the door, he looked back.

If possible, she looked more disheveled than before. Her glasses were skewed and she leaned over the counter, her expression, not quite distraught – but verging on it. “Come back tomorrow, I’ll make you another one. On the house!”

He frowned, why the hell would he want _another_ cup of what would, in all likelihood, be shitty tea?

But he looked at her face, and something in his gut twisted. Her giant grin had been replaced by a near-devastated frown. For fuck’s sake, _it was just tea_. 

It was stupid, he didn’t even know the woman, it shouldn’t matter to _him_ what random expressions she made, but he was already speaking. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

At that, she lit up. “Just wait – come tomorrow your taste buds won’t know what to do with themselves.”

Somehow, he didn’t doubt it – because they sure as hell didn’t know what to make of his drink today. It was anyone’s guess what horrors awaited them tomorrow.

As he pushed through the door, she called after him once more. “I’m Hanji, by the way!”

He called over his shoulder, not looking back. “Levi.”

“Aright, bye Levi! See you-”

The door shut, cutting off her voice.

Shoulders hunched against the cold, quick steps put distance between he and the shop. He wasn’t exactly a people person - at all. His typical regimen for navigating social situations was a winning combination of sarcasm and brooding silence. And it usually worked – but something about the woman in the shop threw him for a loop. 

He’d yet to decide if it was due to the fact that she was the type of person who felt comfortable belting off-tune Fleetwood Mac lyrics at the top of her lungs while at work, of all places, that she was perhaps the most disheveled functioning adult he’d ever seen, or that she seemed to have no qualms about practically holding hands with a complete stranger. Maybe, he thought, it was a combination of all of all three.

Whatever it was, it left his stomach churning in a way that he’d only just begun to realize - wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

He had little to no hope that the tea tomorrow would be anything other than god-awful. He grimaced as he took another sip of the horrendous concoction of water and tea(?) leaves she’d served him up today. 

His fingers flexed, still warm where they pressed against the cup. But – _maybe_ while he waited, she’d do the thing again where she warmed his hands. Even now, he could feel the ghost of her fingers, a warm pressure against the backs of his hands.

He swallowed down another gulp of bitter liquid. Maybe – for that – _one_ more cup of shitty tea wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after he suffers through about 10 cups of the worst tea he has ever tasted, he finally hops the counter and shows her how to make a decent cup of tea. A few months later she buys him the fuzziest pair of gloves her barista budget can afford. 
> 
> ...but he still makes her do the hand warming thing - because he likes it.


	7. Promises Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The scream ripped itself from Levi’s throat as he watched Hanji fall down, down, down.”

It was dark and the world quiet, when he confessed his fear. Calloused fingers traced patterns, meaningless lines over his back. They gave him courage to whisper the admission, little more than a breath against her neck.

“The people I love die.”

The hand at his back paused, and then resumed its careful pattern. Lips pressed against his forehead. Her answer, a murmur against his scalp, was a confession near quiet as his own. “Everyone dies, Levi.”

Where his ear pressed against her chest, he felt the gentle vibration of her words, a reassuring cadence. He listened, eyes closed, to the steady, thrumming beat, and felt the rise and fall of each breath. _  
_

_Not you,_ he wanted to say. With her heartbeat at his ear, her breaths tickling his scalp, and the steady pressure of her hands at his back, she was _so very_ alive.

He was ready to say as much; the words, a mouthful by his standards, were on his tongue, balanced like a perilous drop atop his lips – but she sighed against his hair, a peaceful sound. Screwing up his mouth, he swallowed it back.

He’d almost forgotten it; the unspoken rule. To never make the other speak a promise impossible to keep. A promise broken was infinitely worse than a promise never made. And so they made none. 

She could promise to live for him no more than he could promise to live for her. The world was hard, this life cruel. Promises were meant for a gentler existence.

The next confession was only slightly louder than the last. It left his lips, a reluctant accompaniment to the steady rhythm at his ear. “The people I love die when I’m not there to protect them.”

At that, the hand at his back really and truly paused. He could feel where the edges of her nails, trimmed short, pressed with a hesitating pressure against his skin.

Her reply: a long, quiet breath followed by a murmured sigh, “ _Not me_.”

Beneath his ear, her heart thudded several rapid beats, a response to a taboo ignored – a promise made against the rules. He pressed his mouth to her skin, felt the thrumming beats beneath his lips.

The world was hard. This life was cruel. The promise had left her lips in a rushed breath, nonetheless. 

The hand at his back resumed its pattern. And he pressed against her, half wishing to melt into her skin, take shelter within the steady rhythm in her chest. Because she’d made a promise she wasn’t supposed to make. Should it be broken, he wasn’t sure he could forgive her.

But life went on. Relentless, time marched forward. And so, they did too.

When they next left the wall, the air was clear and the sky a striking shade of blue. _Cerulean_ , Hanji called it. She’d proclaimed it the perfect day for catching Titans.

For all her reckless enthusiasm, Hanji was really, hardly ever wrong about such things. And so it was no surprise that after only two hours into the expedition they were surrounded by trees, and _surrounding_ no less than three seven meter class Titans.

The third Titan had been one more than they’d initially intended to snare. But Hanji, like a dog who’d sniffed out a spare bone, refused to give up the unexpected boon. Spread thin, soldiers fanned out amongst the trees.

He and several others had nearly succeeded in immobilizing one of the Titans, a grinning creature with horrible, bugged eyes, when he heard it – a pained shout.

He knew the voice, recognized it in an instant. Thick bark cracked, breaking and splintering in jagged shards as he wasted a blade, digging it into the closest tree. Across the clearing, too wide for him to do anything but watch, Hanji dropped.

Her cable had been snagged in a Titan’s waiting palm. Tumbling, out of control, she fell.

_Too fast._

The cavity in his chest burned white-hot, and then cold. Frigid fractals pulsed through his veins. He was too far. 

Mouth open, he bellowed hopeless, helpless words that broke down, disintegrating into nothing more than a meaningless shout. The scream ripped itself from Levi’s throat as he watched Hanji fall down, down, down. He couldn’t save her.

Below, the Titan’s jaw unhinged. Grimy, gangly fingers spread, reaching.

A twist and a flash of metal, a sharpened blade catching light. Reaching fingers fell away. Cloven clean from the Titan’s hand, the severed digits toppled to the ground.

Another twist and a pop. A wavering grappling hook shot out. And it caught – clinging to a low lying branch. The cable tightened with a snap, and metal sang. And then she was gliding away, swinging a lopsided path up into the canopy.

Slamming her blade into a thick branch, she spun up, landing on the limb in a crouch. Her shoulders rose and fell in quick pants and as she lifted her head, scuffed goggles flashed, catching the light. Her lips pulled back, and she bared her teeth in a raw, feral grin.

The hilt in his hand was slick with sweat. For a long moment, he stared, watching as she steadied herself on the branch. When a soldier called his name, asking for orders, he remembered to breathe.

An hour later, all three Titans were secure.

As horses were gathered and carts readied, he watched from a distance as she limped between enclosures, ensuring each and every Titan was adequately contained. She was talking animatedly with a soldier, when she suddenly straightened. Twisting a look over her shoulder, she met his gaze. A quick wave, and then she turned, and was on her way.

That night, he pressed his head against her chest. Fingers, once again, traced patterns over his back and he fell asleep, lulled by the steady rhythm at his ear.


	8. Ackermans Don't Get Sick (except for when they do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d rather have your rage than your pity.”

He was definitely sick.

What had started that morning as nothing more than a sore throat had matured into shivers and a festering ache between his eyes – one that left the contents of his stomach roiling.

Holding a hand to his stomach, Levi rested his forehead against his desk, hoping cool wood might mute the sharp ache. Again, his stomach rolled. Pressing his other hand to his gut, Levi swallowed a groan.

He _fucking hated_ being sick.

Luckily for him, he hardly ever _was_. But when a virus did manage to penetrate the stronghold that was his immune system, it was bad. _Really bad_.

In hindsight, he should have known better – taken the day off when he’d woken lethargic, his throat raw. But the deadline was approaching for his latest project, so he’d dragged himself out of bed, and into work.

Big mistake.

Clutching his stomach, he pressed his forehead more firmly against the desk as his body gave way to shivers, as though it might be violently rejecting his decision to leave the house that morning. More concerning still, was that his stomach seemed close to even _more_ violently rejecting the bagel he’d stuffed down his stinging throat a few hours before.

Levi shuddered, miserable.

_Fuck work, fuck bagels, and fuck the god-damn flu._

His fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, as if that would somehow make the inner-workings of his stomach be still.

“Levi?”

Levi groaned against the desk. _Of-fucking-course_. His boss _,_ who hardly ever came out of his office, would choose _today_ to take a stroll around the cubicles.

“Are you alright?” Erwin’s voice was louder now, like he was leaning in.

“I’m fucking sick, what does it look like?” 

\- is what he tried to say. Filtered through a tender throat and muffled against the desk, it came out a near unintelligible grumble.

Erwin, nonetheless, seemed to get the gist of it.

“Take the rest of the day off. You look awful.”

That was all well and fine, but he wasn’t sure he could make it five feet without puking up his guts, let alone drive home. As if to prove his point, his stomach rolled. Bracing his hands against his stomach, Levi swallowed hard.

A heavy sigh. “I would drive you home, but I have a meeting in a few minutes.” Erwin paused. “Hey – the college Hanji teaches at – it’s not far from here, right?”

If Levi could have responded, he would have vehemently dissuaded Erwin from the idea, because Hanji seeing him like this was worse than him giving in and throwing up under his desk. But he could do little more than moan as he listened to Erwin walk away, talking hurriedly on the phone.

Head pounding, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Levi attempted to still his mind, and by association, his stomach. Though he kept at it for a long while, he was eventually forced to admit it simply wasn’t working. His stomach felt as volatile as ever.

When a cool hand settled on his back, he jumped. He lifted his head and his stomach replied with a turbulent roll. Clapping a hand to his mouth, he closed his eyes.

“Aw man, you’ve got it bad.”

A pair of glasses filled his immediate line of sight. Behind them, blinked two big brown eyes, friendly and…sympathetic.

_God damn it._

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Her hands were on his shoulders. Preemptively clutching his stomach, he swayed to his feet. Her arm wrapped around his side, supporting him as he walked. As he stumbled from the building, fervently hoping his co-workers and _god forbid_ the interns weren’t watching his graceless retreat, Hanji talked, a soothing murmur over his head.

“The flu’s going around. A few kids in my classes were out this week. I’ve been trying to wash my hands when I get home. Hope I didn’t pass the bug to you.”

He shook his head – or tried to. Oluo and Petra had both gone home sick in the past few days. If anything, he’d gotten it from one of them. But his stomach was _really_ against any excess head motion. Instead, he settled for a grunt.

And then Hanji was leaning him against warm metal as she pried open her car door. Moments later, she was gripping his shoulders, helping him down into the seat.

He settled in with a groan, letting his head fall back against the headrest. A cool hand touched his forehead. He could feel her breath, light against his face. His eyes stalwartly refused to open, but he imagined she must have ducked into the car and was currently leaning over him.

“We’ll have to get that fever down when we get home.” Her voice was little more than a murmur. He wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or simply thinking aloud. She did both regularly.

The hand at his head shifted down. Blessedly cool fingers splayed, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

“Poor thing.”

Levi grunted, annoyed. But the hand didn’t move, and though he hated the idea of how pathetic he must look, he didn’t lean away from her cool fingers.

But eventually they pulled away. There was a pressure at his chest and the clicking of a seatbelt being secured. The door slammed closed.

Moments later another door opened and the car swayed as Hanji fell into the seat. A tick. The car purred into life. Levi let his head fall to the side, where it was cradled by his seatbelt.

“We’re ten minutes from the house. Think you can make it?”

Levi managed a nod. He’d have to make it. The alternative was either puking his guts up on the side of the road – or in the car. One was humiliating, the other disgusting. _He’d make it home_.

He didn’t make it home.

They were about two minutes away when Hanji took a corner slightly fast. 

As she drove, he’d been steadily turning greener. So she’d sped up in an attempt to get him back sooner. The tactic – while admirable – backfired completely.

The car turned, and Levi slid in his seat, belt tugging tight over his chest and stomach. The churning liquid in his gut heaved, pulled back, and rose triumphant, a tsunami – powerful, volatile, and inevitable.

He managed a garbled, _“Oh fuck n-”_ before his head was between his knees, and _no_ became a heaving roar.

Levi coughed, sputtering at the foul, acidic taste in his mouth. His head lolled, limp between his knees. He didn’t want to open his eyes.

A heavy pause.

“Well, it happened.” Hanji said, her voice matter-of-fact. The car turned again, this time, more gently than before.

The car slowed, and then jerked to a stop. They must be home.

He listened to her door open and close and then his door was swinging open. The fresh air that struck his face made him feel marginally better.

Hanji was unbuckling his seatbelt and gently rubbing his shoulder. “There, there. Let’s get you inside.”

Levi jerked back – or he tried to. He’d yet to pull his arm out of the seatbelt, and found himself entangled. He was disgusting, half-covered in puke, had just made a mess in Hanji’s car and the _last thing_ he wanted was her feeling sorry for him.

“Fuck Hanji. I just projectile vomited shit all over the floor of your car. Be mad, like a normal person.” He angrily rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “I’d rather have your rage than your pity.”

Silence.

He cracked open an eye. 

Hands on her hips, Hanji stared down at him. Her foot tapped an even rhythm against the asphalt. “Are you done being dramatic?”

“I’m not being-”

Before he could finish, she dragged him from the car.

With a hand bracing his side, she walked him inside. Pressing his back, she walked him upstairs.

“Honestly Levi, get over it. You’re sick. I’m taking care of you. That’s what couples do.”

Before he could reply, she dumped him into bed. Rolling onto his side, he pressed his cheek against the pillow.

Hanji emerged from the bathroom, trash bin in hand and towels tossed over her shoulder. “And don’t worry about the car. I’ll clean up – maybe stick some air fresheners under the seats.”

“When I’m-” his stomach, rolled. He grabbed for the trashcan. 

After, puking his guts up for the second time in five minutes, he rolled back, exhausted onto the bed.

A cool cloth pressed against his head.

He continued, in a mumble. “When I’m better I’ll clean your car again. You’ll do,” he sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “a shit job.”

“If it will help you sleep at night.”

“It will.”

Her hand pressed over the cloth.

“Don’t you have to get back – your classes?”

She hummed, flipping the cloth. “Cancelled them for the day.”

Stomach momentarily calm, Levi felt himself beginning to drift. Not that he wanted Four-Eyes hovering by his bedside all day…but the hand at his forehead was nice, the sound of her even breaths, soothing.

He closed his eyes. “Just don’t get sick.”

He hated being sick, hated Hanji being here, seeing him when he was fucking disgusting, but he especially hated the idea passing this current hell on to her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Her hand moved from his forehead to his hair. Her fingers ran calming lines over his scalp.

Eventually she paused, long enough to flip the cloth on his head. By that time, he was long asleep.

Ignoring the disaster that was the car for the time being, she sat down beside the bed.

* * *

He woke up several hours later to the sound of a closing door. Bleary-eyed and still somewhat nauseous, he propped himself up.

Hanji trudged into the room, pale and with her hair tied up in a messy, drooping ponytail.

“Hanji?”

She spoke, staring blankly over his head. “The car is clean…. _but I’ve seen things_.”

Grabbing for a pillow, he chucked it limply at her head. It was a weak toss. The pillow flipped once before landing pathetically on the floor.

She crossed the room, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Oh god, I’m already having flashbacks.”

He rolled back, moaning into his one remaining pillow. “Shut the fuck up.”

And then she was at his side, her fingers once again running through his hair. “When you’re all better I might need you to hold me at night. I fear the scene’s gonna haunt my dreams.”

Levi closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her massaging fingers, distracting him from the nausea that still lingered in his gut. “Sure, whatever. Just…don’t stop.”

The mattress tilted as she settled in. Her thumb traced his forehead as her fingers played through his hair. “You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally planning to turn this into a conversation between Hanji and Levi that took place [SPOILER] after he lost her squad. But after the other angsty prompts I'd already written, I just couldn't do it - so I was like screw it, I'm going to make Levi sick and Hanji's gonna take care of him and it will be adorable and happy.
> 
> This was the last one! Thanks for reading!
> 
> And like I said, I do sometimes take requests on Tumblr, but also feel free to stop by and chat :)
> 
> http://just-quintessentially-me.tumblr.com/


	9. This Isn't My Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t my tea,” Levi said to her as he looked suspiciously into his cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I've done quite a few more levihan sentence prompts, so I thought I'd put them here too so they're all together.
> 
> This one was given to me by the lovely consultinghulagirl!

“This isn’t my tea,” Levi said to her as he looked suspiciously into his cup.

Hanji, who was in the middle of scouring a thick report, looked up from the thin print. “No. It’s not,” she agreed.

Hanji didn’t elaborate. The report had already drawn her attention from him. 

Irritated, he cleared his throat. 

When this garnered no response, he set the teacup down. It’s ceramic base struck the table with a light _thunk_. 

Brown eyes flicked up.

“ _Whose_ tea is it?”

“Mine.” And just like that, she was back to reading.

Nearing the edge of his patience, Levi leaned forward. “Hanji.” 

No reaction.

Resting his elbows on the desk between them, he lifted two fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried again. “Hanji!”

She jerked up. “ _What?”_ Bracing a hand on the report, she looked quickly about the room for a disturbance that could have warranted the shout.

Only after her gaze had rapidly scoured the small office did it finally settle on him. With her attention at long last on him, he spoke. “ _Why_ am I drinking your tea?”

She shrugged. “Your tea is three times as expensive as the normal variety. We had a few items that were last minute orders. Unfortunately, your tea didn’t make the budget.”

He stared.

Sighing, she elaborated. “A pair of scientists in a city up north developed technology that would allow us to transport and preserve Titan expulsionary matter.” Closing the book, she looked him in the eye. “It could be invaluable for my research. I had to have it.”

On the wall, a round clocked ticked, counting the seconds.

Finally, “You had my tea booted from the budget so you could study filthy titan shit?”

“Actually,” she interrupted, “It’s much more akin to vomit, as the substance is regurgitated rather than expelled through the intestinal tract.”

Again, he stared.

“In short. Yes. Yes I did.” She nodded to his cup. “Which was why I replenished your stocks with what was left of my own tea.”

Hardly mollified, he looked down at the cup. “It tastes like shit.”

“I figured foul tea might be better than no tea at all.” She shrugged. “I elected to have my coffee cut from the budget as well. If anything, that should speak to how important this technology may be.”

It hadn’t been his imagination, then. The bags under her eyes were indeed larger. 

And then a new thought occurred to him. Was _that_ the reason the idiot had nearly been grabbed up by her fucking Titan experiment two days ago? He’d thought her reaction time had been suspiciously slow.

His chair scraped back as he stood. 

He got to the door before she’d realized he moved. “Hm? Levi, where are you going?”

“Getting your sorry ass some damn coffee.”

“You have coffee?” She frowned. “I pegged you for a tea guy, through and through.”

“I steal a scoop from Mike every time he pisses me off.”

Hanji nodded slowly, as if this piece of information might have explained several mysteries that had previously plagued her. And then, she smiled. “Hurry back then! My taste-buds are already looking forward to Mike’s gourmet brew.”

He paused at the door. “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. Next month I expect to see my regular tea back on the budget.”

She waved her hand. “ _Of course!”_ Leaning back, she scratched at the back of her neck. “I mean I _was_ debating the merits of purchasing-”

He glared.

“I’m kidding. Next month you’ll have your tea. You’re grumpier than usual without it.“

Rather than dignify that with a response, he turned and made a quick exit. Grumbling under his breath about the hazards of coffee dependency in their line of work, he headed up to his room, to get her stupid caffeine-addicted ass some coffee. At the very least, it would give him a break from the shit she called tea.


	10. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are checking on their 3DMG, a common practice before every expedition.

They are checking on their 3DMG, a common practice before every expedition. Kneeling, Levi runs his fingers over the smooth metal, methodically feeling for irregularities in the balance and weight. Even the slightest malfunction could result in disaster. 

Several yards away, Hanji has forgone what was already a brief check of her own gear in favor of answering a new recruit’s questions concerning Titans of the abnormal variety. Predictably, her answer is neither collected nor brief. 

Her hands are splayed, wildly gesticulating _god knows what_ about Titans, when a sharp whistle pierces the air. It is the signal for everyone to mount their horses. Soon, they will depart. 

Hanji has gone so far as putting her foot in the stirrup when Moblit’s shout halts her on the spot. 

Kneeling before her, Moblit carefully reaches for the mesh of wires and gears nestled between her blade canisters and belt. Squinting into the mechanism, he murmurs, quiet. “I thought your maneuver gear was shifting funny when you walked.” 

Something clicks, and he sits back pleased. “There. It wasn’t much. But the balance _was_ slightly off. You need to check your gear more carefully, Squad Leader!”

Her assistant has barely stood before he’s tackled in a tight hug. Grinning, Hanji pulls back and affectionately ruffles his hair. “Thank you Moblit! Where would I be without that careful eye of yours?” She pauses. “Probably a delicious Titan snack.” At that, she laughs, entirely entertained by her own joke.

Moblit isn’t nearly so amused. In fact, he looks mildly ill at the thought.

After giving his back a hard pat, Hanji swings up onto the saddle. 

From several yards away, Levi watches their interactions from atop his horse. Deep in the pit of his stomach, something churns. 

It’s not jealousy. 

Because that would be petty, immature, and certainly not a quality worthy of the man who’d been dubbed humanity’s strongest soldier. Besides, there are much more important issues vying for his attention than whether or not Hanji is excessively appreciative of her doting assistant.

So clearly, he’s not jealous - _probably._

Three weeks later, they prepare to venture on yet another expedition. They stop to check their 3DMG, and once again, Hanji is distracted by a more interesting endeavor. This time, reading over a hastily dropped-off report. 

However, before Moblit can take so much as a step in her direction, Levi has already situated himself by her side. 

When he grabs her maneuver gear, pulling it - and her - closer, to inspect its innermost gears and wires, she startles, and nearly drops the report. 

“Levi-” she starts, seemingly torn between surprise and annoyance. 

He holds up a hand. 

He looks the gear over from top to bottom, scouring it’s every inch. And damn it if it’s not perfect in every way. Against all odds, it looks as though she’s even managed to find the time to give it a polish. 

He’s about ready to stand, when he sees it: atop her left boot, a long lace has come loose. 

Kneeling in the dirt, he grabs up the loose lace. Pinched between deft fingers, it’s tied tight. Looping the leather, he double-knots it for good measure. Satisfied, he rises. 

Standing before her, he waits, expectant. 

For a long moment, she stares, perplexed. And then, behind dust-speckled goggles those perceptive brown eyes shift, from Levi, to her gear and boots, and then to Moblit, who stands scratching his head a few yards off.

It wasn’t by accident that Hanji Zoe was assigned the position of the Survey Corp’s head researcher. When it comes to analytical prowess, her abilities are simply unparalleled. And so, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for her to connect the dots. 

Stepping forward, she tugs Levi into a swift hug. Holding him close, she awkwardly pats his back. “…Thank you. For checking my gear. And my boot.”

He responds with a quick duck of his chin. Turning swiftly on his heel, he marches back, passing Moblit with a haughty nod. Hanji’s assistant looks after him, confused. 

Levi settles onto his horse, feeling unreasonably pleased - for reasons he can’t entirely explain.

Because he certainly hadn’t been jealous.


	11. The Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi sneezed once again into his handkerchief as he powered though the mounds of paperwork on his desk. Hanji walked in as quietly possible behind him, using the sounds of his sneezes to get close.

Levi sneezed once again into his handkerchief as he powered though the mounds of paperwork on his desk. Hanji walked in as quietly possible behind him, using the sounds of his sneezes to get close.

For the last forty-eight hours he’d been sneezing and sniffling, all while coughing hard enough to displace a lung. He’d trudged around headquarters, his sharp steps dulled by whatever virus had managed to penetrate his immune system. Despite the pallor set into his features and the steady dribble of fluids from his nose, he steadfastly insisted that despite appearances, he was fine. 

His words being: _I don’t get sick._

Which was the biggest load of crap she’d heard in years - and mind you, her weekly walk to the Western Wall Lookout took her straight past a babbling priest who repeatedly decreed that it was _gods_ who had given them the walls, and that they’d done so by, quite literally, dropping them from the sky.

Levi Ackerman was either in denial or lying through his teeth. Which meant he was continuing through his normal schedule as if his immune system weren’t horribly compromised. 

Hanji had watched him cough his way through morning training, and then shuffle through his rounds, sniffing and sniffling all the while. And now, he had planted himself in front of a mound of paper nearing Everest proportions, and he was sneezing hard enough to rock the chair - probably spraying a fine layer of virus-ridden spittle over everyone. 

Hanji’d seen enough. It was well past time for an intervention. 

Rolling through her steps, she crossed the room, relying on the sound of his sneezes to mask her movement. He had that ridiculous Ackerman strength on his side (a quality of his person which she was going to thoroughly investigate at some point in the future), so she was relying on the element of surprise. In this regard, his frequent sternutations were a great help. She was halfway across the room and he’d yet to hear her approach. 

Against paper, his pen scratched. He sneezed again. Leaning back, he dabbed at his nose with a spare handkerchief. With a sniffle, he set it gingerly on the desk. 

And then, she struck. 

Grabbing his shoulder, she hooked her foot around the rear leg of his chair. With a swift kick, the chair - and Levi - toppled back. Vial in hand, she dropped down on him.

Splayed on the floor, Levi glared, incensed. Despite his pallor, an angry flush climbed his neck. His brows drew together in an angry line while his narrow-eyed gaze held the promise of pain. Pushing against the floor, he opened his mouth - and Hanji flung the contents of the vial right in. 

The second the chartreuse liquid passed his lips, she dove forward, slapping a hand over his mouth. With her other, she pinched his nostrils in a tight grip. 

Behind her palm, emerged a sound of abject horror and rage. Bucking up, he nearly tossed her. But Hanji had dealt with 15 meter Titans. Compared to them, Levi was… well he was still a handful. But he was at least a manageable one. 

She wrapped her long legs around his waist as they rolled. Her hold on his face didn’t waver. His hands were at her arms, then on her wrists. But before he could pry them from his face, his throat at long last bobbled.

The moment she drew back her hands, he sucked in a sharp gasp. And then he was levering himself up. Hard hands gripped her shoulders. “What _the fuck_ did you just poison me with?” 

He stared at her, panting. A drop of the yellowish liquid dribbled down his chin.

“Medicine. One of my own making.” Adjusting her glasses, she stared smugly down. “It’ll have you better by tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t need it.” As he spoke, a cough wracked his frame. He threw up his arm, catching the cough in its crook.

She lifted a brow. “The evidence before me suggests otherwise.”

Over his sleeve, he stared daggers. 

Rising, she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Now that the medicine has hit your stomach, you’ll be asleep within minutes.”

Levi struggled to his feet. “The hell - you can’t just go around force feeding people your fucking knock-out potion.” He swayed. Clutching the corner of his desk, he glared. “In case you didn’t notice, I have shit to do.”

“Complain all you want. It won’t do any good. The process has already begun.”

He blinked once, then swayed and leaned heavily against the table. Scrunching his nose, he blinked twice more. 

Gently grabbing his shoulders, she guided him away from his desk, pushing him in the direction of his bed. Already loosing coordination, he flopped down atop the mattress.

As she pulled off his boots, face-down, he mumbled against the sheets. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

Placing his boots at the end of the bed, Hanji hummed in response. Practiced fingers removed his belts with ease. Once he was free of the confining leather, she pulled back the covers and tucked him securely inside. 

Leaning down, she brushed her hand over his sweat dappled forehead. Glassy eyes stared up at her. From barely parted lips, he spoke, groggy, “Just wait. When I wake up…I’m gonna…” His voice trailed into silence. 

Beneath her hand, his eyes had drifted closed. The covers which she’d carefully tucked around his torso rose and fell with his deep, even breaths. 

Satisfied, Hanji stepped back. 

If he’d continued to take part in his normal schedule while in his current condition, his recovery time would have extended days - if not weeks. Not to mention, the risks such behavior posed to his long term health. It was better this way. Let him sleep for this day and through the night while her medicine worked upon him. When compared to the potential days or weeks he might have been ill, the sacrifice of one day was well worth it.

With one last look at her sleeping patient, Hanji took his place at the desk. Once righted, she discovered the seat was still warm.

Adjusting her glasses, she peered down at the papers. They were financials. A categorical account of the supplies used by the squad as well as any miscellaneous expenses. By the looks of it, he’d managed to get through a fourth of it before she’d interrupted. 

Reaching to the thick stack beside it, Hanji flipped briefly through the pages. As expected, Levi - or likely, someone under his command - had taken meticulous notes on their expenses. When she’d arrived, Levi had clearly been in the process of compiling the various data from the notes to be incorporated into the final financial report. 

Hanji huffed a short breath through her nose. It was dreadfully boring material. Much less interesting than a categorical analysis of Titan behavior. But it had to be done. Of that, Erwin was adamant. The Survey Corps’ money wasn’t earned through Titan research - as much as she wished otherwise. In reality, they were, unfortunately, at the mercy of a complex and politically weighted, bureaucratic system. And so - the ever dull quarterly budget reports demanded attention. 

Settling into the seat, Hanji pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. Grabbing up his abandoned pen, she flipped to the next blank page. 

This was, strictly speaking, a breach of protocol. But she’d worry about Erwin’s inevitable reprimanding in the morning. 

Behind her, Levi slept. ‘Humanity’s Strongest’, lay, sniffling and wheezing beneath his quilted sheets. She understood, he had a reputation to uphold. People saw him as a champion, a hero. And surely, heroes didn’t fall ill. 

But now, at least, come morning he’d be well. With the aid of her tonic, he’d wake up healthy and revitalized. The illusion would remain.

For such an objective, she didn’t mind giving up a single night’s rest. 

Anyway, she had a reputation too. ‘Mad Scientist’ Hanji Zoe certainly wouldn’t be missed should she disappear for a day and a night. It would be chalked up to a long-running experiment or yet another eccentricity unique to her person.

And so, beneath the pale lamp light, she bent over the twin stacks.

For better or worse, both of their reputations would endure. 

As the day, then the night, waned on, turning occasional glances over her shoulder, she watched the steady rise and fall of the blankets as he slept.


	12. Her Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was taken aback by her words and suddenly felt all these emotions at once, feelings that he’d tried to push down.

He was taken aback by her words and suddenly felt all these emotions at once, feelings that he’d tried to push down.

It wasn’t like she’d said anything special. Not really. The words, strung together in a short, breathless pant, were a phrase which had doubtlessly passed the lips of countless soldiers. He was sure, at some point, he’d uttered them too.

However, it was now, when he lay half-buried in mud, body thrumming with pain, that the short phrase was, for the first time in his too long life, uttered on his behalf.

He’d almost missed it.

Levi sprawled, limp, amid stony rubble. The decimated remains of a ruined Shiganshina home. Half of his face was submerged in cold mud. It was in his mouth, leaving in its wake a sharp, acrid taste. His left arm twisted impossibly at his side. He couldn’t feel his legs.

The earth jarred beneath him. He felt every tremor, a jolt against his battered bones. Blinking murky water from his eyes, he could just make out a set of grimy, bulbous toes. Behind the bastard’s giant feet, stumbled another pair, and behind it – another.

Levi grimaced. On his tongue, the foul mud mixed with the metallic tang of blood. He twisted his head, and his eyes rolled up.

There he was. Ugly bastard.

Mouth gaping like a horrible wound, the Titan smiled dumbly down at him. Behind him, the two fuckers who’d followed along leaned in.

Levi’s fingers twitched. 

Reaching for his blades was a practiced motion. But his blade canisters were no longer there. They’d come loose. Either when the Titan struck him, or when he crashed to the ground. 

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t move his arms.

By the time the Titan bent down, fat fingers splayed and reaching, Levi’s ears had begun to ring. So at first, he didn’t hear it – the telltale whir of three dimensional maneuver gear.

And then the fingers were gone. In their place, remained the stump of a hand. As the severed fingers splashed into the mud, a figure dropped gracefully beside them.

His gaze traveled up the tall brown boots, freshly speckled with mud, up her long legs, over a scuffed jacket, and up to the grimy collar that trapped the ends of her messy hair. Looking over her shoulder, Hanji Zoe half-turned. At the center of her right goggle, there blossomed a spidery crack.

Behind her, the finger-less Titan had recovered and was reaching out with his other fat hand. And behind him, the bastard’s friends pushed at his back, eager.

Hanji’s blades hovered, ready, at her sides. As the three Titans swayed forward, her hands squeezed, fingers tightening over the hilts. She dipped her chin. Pulled loose from where it had been trapped in her collar, her hair blew about her shoulders.

It was fucking suicide, and he was going to tell her as much – but the ringing in his ears made it hard to think.

She turned her head, a slight motion. Over her shoulder, he could make out the slightest movement of her lips. His name.

He couldn’t see her face. Behind her, light shone bright and sharp. It cast her features in shadow. But he couldn’t have imagined the smile.

At her sides, the blades flicked up. Boots squelching through the mud, she stepped towards them. In her wake, she left with him a single, simple phrase.

“I’ll protect you.”


	13. The Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The kids told me you smiled earlier. Shit finally got out?” teased Hanji.

“The kids told me you smiled earlier. Shit finally got out?” teased Hanji.

Levi, who was on his way to a meeting, evaded the ambush with a practiced sidestep. Without so much as a glance back, he continued on his way.

He was alerted to her persisting presence by padding steps and the slight squeak of worn leather. It wasn’t long before her tall figure entered his periphery. Arms swinging at her sides, she kept pace with smooth, easy strides. Damn those long legs.

“Mind you, I heard it from multiple sources. If it had been just Connie and Sasha, I wouldn’t be so quick to believe. But not ten minutes ago, Mr. Arlert confirmed it.”

Levi frowned, mentally adding their names to his lengthy shit-list. He would find a way to dole out appropriate punishment later.

“So…” Hanji continued, relentless. “I’m curious. What _did_ it look like?” She nudged him with her elbow. The bony point roughly prodded his side. “Do it again.”

He swatted her arm away. Speeding his pace, he silently cursed the three younger squad members and their big mouths. What were they doing idly chatting with Four-Eyes in the first place? He’d specifically _warned_ them about that.

It hadn’t even been a god damn smile. _Not really_. The kids had all been there, staring at him with those stupid, happy faces. And so what? The corners of his lips had twitched. They had _twitched_. Compared to Brouse’s squinty-eyed grin, he didn’t think his glorified lip twitch should even qualify as a smile.

Hanji Zoe (seriously, damn those legs!) sped her steps to match. She elbowed him again. “Come on. Just a little one. We have a dangerous mission coming up. What if I die in Shiganshina? I’ll have never witnessed this rare phenomenon!”

His head snapped up, because _who the hell says things like that?_ “That is a fucking terrible joke.”

“No, no. You’ve got it backwards, Levi. The corners of your mouth need to go _up_.”

She reached forward, as if to demonstrate. He gave the probing hand a swat.

Turning the corner, he looked up – and sighed. His salvation came in the form of a thick wooden door. His debriefing. A meeting in which his presence, alone, was required.

He grabbed for the knob. His curt nod was meant to be a dismissal, but she ignored it and instead, leaned in against the door frame.

The door swung open. The short hallway beyond held several additional doors. The last one, which sat at the very end of a faded, royal blue rug – which was probably older than he – was his escape.

Hanji crossed her arms. Tilting her head, she observed him with a considering stare. “I’m really trying to imagine it.”

“Good. Use that big brain of yours and leave me the hell alone.”

He stepped into the hall.

Behind him, Hanji hummed in thought. “Perhaps it’s for the best. Without that constipated expression, I might find you attractive. Wouldn’t _that_ be inconvenient?”

Completely unprepared for the audacious remark, his steps ground to a halt. Eyes narrowed to slits (because what _the fuck_ was she up to now?), he glanced over his shoulder.

Tilting her head back, Hanji laughed. She shook her head, cackling in the face of his confusion. “Of course, I’m only kidding.”

Abruptly, she turned. “When you punish Brouse, Springer, and Arlert, send them down to my office. I have a number of files in desperate need of ordering.”

As suddenly as she’d arrived, she left, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder.

Levi stared.

Her tapping steps had long since faded when finally roused himself and turned back to the short hall.

Taking the hall in brisk steps, Levi scowled towards the waiting door. Damn her and her shitty glasses, disrupting his concentration right before a debriefing. He roughly adjusted his cravat as he reached for the door. He stepped into the room, distracted, and angry enough at his subordinates to very seriously consider condemning them to the biohazard that was Hanji Zoe’s office.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after Hanji’s office was clean and the guilty members of his squad had gone to bed, exhausted, that Levi realized:

He’d been thoroughly played.

* * *


	14. Survey Corps Unveiled: Interpersonal Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They never had a serious fight before.

They never had a serious fight before. 

Sure, they fought. As two strong minded, often incendiary individuals are apt to do. But rarely did their spats escalate beyond name calling and the occasional frustrated shove. And though both may, at times, have been prey to their own unique array of eccentricities, they were - contrary to the teasing of their comrades - both fully functioning adults. Functioning adults with military rankings and titles, at that. 

So despite their differences in personality and the natural tension that existed between them (tension, which the younger recruits steadfastly believed _had to be_ sexual in nature - Mike was guilty of encouraging the idea), the two made a concerted effort to keep their disagreements separate from their work. 

In fact, the several months that preluded _the incident_ had been characterized by relative peace. Later, some would argue it was the very absence of fighting in those months which led to the inevitable confrontation between the Captain and Squad Leader. They theorized that without the normally occurring spats, a mounting pressure grew, unchecked, between the two individuals.

Still others argued that _the incident_ would have never happened at all, but for the events that took place that morning; that the accident in the yard was the metaphorical spark from which the fuse of confrontation was lit. 

The majority agree it was likely an unfortunate combination of both. 

You see, that very morning, three fresh Titans had been brought in for experimentation. Hanji Zoe, who was experiencing near euphoric excitement at the mere thought of all she could learn with _three_ subjects at her disposal, zipped about the yard as she directed every available soldier to begin preparing the subjects for testing. 

Busy shouting directions at the hurrying soldiers, she failed to notice the trainee stepping too close to the ensnared five meter. 

Energized by the human within reach, the Titan surged. Wires snapped as thick nails popped from the ground. Hanji was the first to react (there was a reason she had survived so many years in the Survey Corps). Deploying her 3DMG, the shining grappling hooks embedded into the closest building. Sliding on her heels, she skidded across the yard. 

As the Titan broke free, reaching for the terrified trainee, Hanji reached out. Grabbing the young boy by his collar, she yanked him back. The Titan’s warm hand closed around her torso. 

As she was lifted up, the yard erupted into a chorus of shouts and screams. With both of her arms pinned, she shouted to be heard over the chaos of sounds. With what little breath remained, she ordered the soldiers to restrain the Titan. _To keep him alive._

Soldiers scrambled and all around her, the whirring snap of 3DMG could be heard. With the last nails popping out of place and her ribs beginning to feel like they might crack, the Squad Leader at long last gasped for them to _take it out._

With the steaming carcass of the escaped Titan sitting at the center of the yard, Hanji Zoe, limping and with aching ribs, corralled the frazzled soldiers to aid her in completing whatever tests might be run on the rapidly disappearing flesh.

News of the incident spread fast. By the time dinner rolled around, there wasn’t a Survey Corps member who _hadn’t_ heard about the near catastrophic Titan incident in the yard. 

In the Mess Hall that night, dinner began, slightly louder than normal, as talk of the day’s excitement spread between tables. 

It was nearly an hour after dinner had started, late enough for a great many of the Survey Corps members to have cleared out, when the incident occurred. 

Concerning exactly _what_ happened and _when_ , accounts vary. Some of the dining soldiers maintained that Captain Levi Ackerman, who’d been absent from dinner, stormed suddenly and violently into the hall. Others steadfastly maintained that the Captain had been there the whole time, quietly stewing in a dark corner as he ate his meal. And a small, but adamant minority argued that the Captain and Squad Leader had actually been sitting beside each other, arguing in quiet whispers for the duration of the meal.

But the exact details of what led to the confrontation matter not - for all agree on what happened next. Captain Levi, leaned over the table, hissing something quiet and angry in a low breath. Beneath his collar, a dark flush climbed the back of his neck.

Rather than answer him directly, Hanji Zoe turned her head. Her answer was quiet and hard. Light reflected off her glasses, obscuring her eyes.

And then Levi moved. Grabbing the Squad Leader’s chin, he forced her to face him. 

At the touch, she surged up. Her palms slapped the table as her chair tipped, clattering to the floor. 

What precisely took place in the minutes following the exchange can only be speculated, as the remaining diners quickly made their leave as soon as the first heavy wooden table was overturned. By the time an ill-placed chair was kicked aside hard enough to splinter, all innocent bystanders had made their escape.

For the next thirty minutes from the Mess Hall there arose a non-stop barrage crashes, scrapes, and shouts.

Just when those who waited outside the heavy wooden doors had decided that for the sake of the room, they’d have to (at the risk of life and limb) intervene - the Mess Hall finally went silent. 

Fearing one or both parties might have succumbed to their injuries, the soldiers rushed forward. But even as they reached out, the doors creaked open. 

Faces flushed pink, Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hanji strolled from the room. Their expressions betrayed no evidence of the previous brawl. In fact, in the wake of the chaotic sounds that preceded their exit, they appeared remarkably calm. 

Lifting his chin, Levi adjusted his cravat, tucking it carefully back into place. Beside him, Hanji righted her skewed glasses. Without a word, they left the hall. It was rumored that soon after, they retired to the Captain Levi’s personal quarters - together. 

The Mess Hall fiasco was the first and last recorded incident of a truly destructive confrontation between the two individuals. In fact, after the exchange, squabbles between the Captain and Squad Leader decreased in frequency as well. Whether their improved relations were due to a change in their relationship status (as the younger recruits - and Mike - liked to speculate), or because of the hefty fine Commander Smith saddled them with for their blatant destruction of property, we will, perhaps, never truly know.

_\- Excerpt from the acclaimed tell-all novel, Survey Corps Unveiled: Interpersonal Relations by Mike Zacharius_


	15. They Were Always So Careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were always so careful, so that no one would find out. So…how did Erwin KNOW?

They were always so careful, so that no one would find out. So…how did Erwin KNOW?

It was a question that had plagued Hanji Zoe for the better part of the morning and stuck around, a nagging problem for nearly the entirety of the afternoon.

It wasn’t that she doubted the man’s intelligence. Erwin Smith was just about as shrewd as they were made. When it came to happenings at headquarters, she doubted there was much of which their perceptive leader was unaware.

But she and Levi had been _so_ careful. Taking pains to meet in secret. Even going so far as to plan some of their meetups to coincide with Erwin’s political meetings. There were no witnesses to their secret rendezvous, and neither he nor she had told anyone of the reoccurring encounters. No one in the Survey Corps _should_ have known. Erwin Smith included.

But he did.

And that complicated things.

The note she’d received before breakfast made it blatantly clear exactly what Erwin knew. Equally clear was the fact that they were going face repercussions for their actions. _Survey Corps Leaders were expected to maintain a higher level of decorum. A certain professional dignity, if you will._

He’d requested a word with both of them at – his words – _the earliest convenience_. Which meant _now_. But he was aware that she was in the middle of an experiment, so she felt it was within her rights to push back the inevitable, uncomfortable meeting until the end of the day.

More important still: she’d yet to tell Levi.

He’d been going about his day, lips puckered down in habitual distaste, despite being still blissfully unaware that their jig was officially about to expire. Hanji could only imagine what wonders that little tidbit of information would do to his expression, let alone his mood.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have to imagine much longer.

The experiment had run its course, conclusions had been drawn, and relevant data recorded. And now she was on her way to deliver the news – and drag Levi along to what would surely be a horrorfest of a meeting.

It really wasn’t fair, she considered.

Living the lives that they did – with the Survey Corps mortality rate at what it was – to not be allowed to indulge in the rare vice. For all they risked, she felt they had earned at least this much. Their secret meetups were a stress relief, really. Good for her morale – and Levi’s. She had half a mind to fight Erwin tooth and nail on this one. Sure, it might be against Survey Corps regulations – _technically._ But surely, _surely_ there were other Survey Corps members with secrets far more sordid than they.

This line of thought had run its course when she at last found him. Outside the stables, he knelt over his horse’s tack. Running a cloth over the worn leather, he looked to be attempting to give the scuffed equipment a thorough polishing.

Boots crunching on the dry earth, she pivoted to a stop beside him. Leaning over the saddle, she pointed to a spot on the side. “Missed a spot.”

Levi grunted. “That one’s stained in the leather.” He gave it a half-hearted rub nonetheless.

She might as well get it over with. “Erwin knows.”

The cloth went still.

“About what?”

“You know what.”

Dropping the rag, Levi stood with a sigh. “He wants to see us then?”

“I got a note from him this morning.”

Hanji turned. Looking grim, Levi followed after.

“We’re going to fight it?” He asked. It wasn’t really a question.

“Of course we are.”

They weren’t going to give up their weekly toilet paper vandalization of the Military Police Headquarters so easily.

Like she said. Stress relief.


	16. Tutoring Sessions

It was idiotic. Arguably the worst idea he’d ever had. And he had the presence of mind to admit that as a high school-aged male, he probably had a lot of shit ideas. He was, however, smart enough not to act on them.

Until now.

 _Why_ had he decided to act on this one, terrible, fucking awful impulse? The reason was tall, awkward, and wore a pair of abused, crooked glasses.

Yesterday, after gym, with his sweat-dampened shirt clinging to his back in the most disgusting way imaginable, it had slipped out. He’d asked Hanji Zoe to tutor him. In science.

It was bad. Really fucking awful, really. Because not only did he make a point to avoid hanging out with Hanji any more than was strictly necessary, but he didn’t need a tutor in Science. At all. He’d aced the last two tests.

He and Hanji were friends, _kind of_. He didn’t mind hanging out with his eccentric classmate on occasion. She got his humor.

But that didn’t mean he went out of his way to interact with her. Or he hadn’t.

It all started when Hanji made a new friend (she picked up friends like a coin collector with low standards picks up grimy pennies from the side of the road). This one was a shy freshman from one of her clubs. And for the last couple of weeks he’d been an annoyingly reoccurring element in their conversations. 

_Armin is interested in my theories on mold growth in the school cafeteria._ Or _Armin and I are going to try to replicate the diet-coke and mentos experiment. BUT BIGGER._ And even _Armin’s gonna eat lunch with us today! It will be a great chance for us to tell you about our theory on the expanding universe. We worked on it aaalll weekend!_

And then she started tutoring the bowl-cut wonder. And the plans he’d made, with rolling eyes and forced reluctance, to join her for ice-cream were cancelled in favor of helping the runt get ready for his chemistry test.

Two days later Levi asked her to tutor him.

And so here he sat, tapping his toes, uncharacteristically anxious, while he waited for Four-Eyes to meet him in the library. To tutor him. In a class where he was earning top marks.

She arrived, her standard two-minutes late, a flurry of unbridled energy. When she slapped a slippery pile of folders on the table and loudly proclaimed her intent to _make him the next great scientific mind_ , he merely nodded and hoped his scowl masked his deceit.

They met at the library two days later. And again, two days after that. After the fifth tutoring session, Levi, with folded arms and unhappy grumblings aimed to distract from his flush, offered to buy Hanji a smoothie to _pay her back_ for the tutoring. The next week it was ice cream. And then a pretzel from the stand by the pier.

Weeks after Hanji had finished helping Armin with chemistry, her and Levi’s tutoring sessions continued. As did their weekly trips to get treats.

It was another month before Hanji, standing straight with her smudged glasses pressed determinedly high on the bridge of her nose, demanded they put a stop to the tutoring farce and skip straight to the date. In that moment, Levi made what was arguably the second most idiotic decision of his young life. 

He said yes. 


	17. Hobbies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes she wondered if he ever had any time for, like, hobbies (you know, other than near-obsessive cleaning) and then one day, she found out that yes- he did.
> 
> (I cheated a little. I didn't use this exact sentence. Instead, I worked it into the overall theme of the fic)

Hange Zoe wondered. 

Wondered at the walls, humanity’s greatest protector (captor?). Wondered about Titans, speculating, always, as to their nature; whether single-minded beings could be said to have one at all. She wondered about the government, about the monarchy’s secrets, secrets they’d yet to fully understand– secrets, perhaps, buried too deep to ever be properly unearthed. And sometimes, when her mind wasn’t crowded, pushed painfully full with such daunting queries, she wondered about Levi Ackerman.

If pressed, she’d tell you she knew him. 

Levi, always last to turn in his mission reports because he wrote with deliberate slowness, a painstaking attempt to turn messy, late-learned letters neat. Who drank precisely three cups of tea a day. One in the morning, brewed before the sun had a chance breathe life into the barracks; one in the afternoon, drunk within view of the training yard. Close enough to observe, yet far enough to discourage idle visitors; And one before bed, liquid balm to sooth a soldier’s frayed nerves. 

Levi, who despite his late-night herbal tea, slept fitfully – aged floorboards gave away his pacing. The sliver of light that leaked beneath his door was a beacon of his restlessness. Hange knew it well. Awake, she often bore witness to its lonely glow.

She knew that he didn’t laugh – but, contrary to what many believed, his lack of laughter didn’t mean he was incapable of amusement. That his amusement was betrayed in the squint of his eyes, the slight press of his lips. Easily mistaken for annoyance – which was, incidentally, characterized by a _slightly different_ squinting of his eyes and pressing of his lips – Levi’s amusement was often misinterpreted or overlooked.

Cleaning was an act from which Levi took true enjoyment. Clearing clutter, scrubbing away grime, relentlessly sweeping up dirt and dust; all seemed to sooth him. In the rare instance he found himself free of responsibility, tidying a stray mess was his preferred pastime.

Or so she’d thought.

Until one very particular afternoon. 

Particular, because it was balmy yet cool; heat allayed by a chill breeze, the herald of summer’s surrender to fall. Headquarters, lulled into lethargy by the pleasant weather, was unusually empty. In its emptiness, the captain’s absence was obvious.

And because it was a slow day, strange already, Hange abandoned re-analyzing the results of her latest experiment in favor of seeking out the mysteriously absent captain.

As she searched Headquarters, moving from the more common spaces to the locked-off and obscure, Hange wondered – habit by now – mind divided between the Titans in her latest experiment and a list of Levi’s possible whereabouts.

She proceeded as such, wondering and walking, meticulously increasing her search radius until she wandered the grounds outside headquarters. She was climbing a hill, shading her eyes against the sun as she considered, once again, the ramifications of Titans occupying the walls, when she found him.

Under a wide-boughed tree, legs folded beneath him and his back pressed up against bark, Levi sat. Before him, a leather bag waited patiently in the grass. Its cinched mouth was open. As she watched, he reached in and pulled from the sack a single torn patch.

Mystified, Hange observed as he turned the fabric over in his hands. Etched in painstaking print upon the back was a name, too distant to read.

Levi closed his eyes. As he fingered the patch, his lips moved, brief. And then the patch was put carefully back, and replaced immediately with another. For half an hour he continued, unaware of her presence, before Hange, feeling too much like an intruder, left without a word.

But still she wondered.

In the span of a month she found him in the same place twice more. The third time, she ventured close enough to hear. For each patch he held, a name passed his lips. _Isabel. Farlan. Petra. Gunther. Eld. Auruo. Nifa-_ All soldiers. Those who had died under his command.

By then she knew. It was an act of remembering.

The fourth time Hange found him, she sat. Scooting over grass, she pressed her back against the tree as she watched his ritual, silent.

By the fifth, he wordlessly passed her each patch, letting her touch the frayed fabric.

And so they sat, backs against hard bark, passing torn patches between them, lost comrades’ names upon their lips. Continuing until the bag was exhausted and the day had begun to turn cold. In the quiet that followed, Levi remembered and Hange wondered.

Levi Ackerman took unusual joy from the act of cleaning, regularly drank tea, bore the soldier’s burden of sleeplessness, didn’t laugh - though was often amused, wrote with exacting precision, and took pains to remember his every lost soldier.

If pressed, Hange would tell you she knew him.


	18. Drunk In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received an ask requesting a fic based on the prompt: “Hey shitty glasses, do you know how much I love your smile?” 
> 
> And naturally, I decided to write a crack-y one shot in which Levi is completely and utterly drunk.

“Hey shitty glasses, do you know how much I love your smile?”

The declaration, sudden as it is unexpected, is accompanied by a wheezing hiccup.

Hanji, whose efforts had been entirely focused on attempting to see through the impenetrable façade that is Erwin Smith’s poker face, looks up from her cards. And nearly drops the hand.

Levi, flushed and listing, stumbles toward the table.

“Levi?” Hanji stares, trying and failing to process the frankly bizarre and unusual sight. “What happened to you?”

The table scrapes, shuddering, as he braces himself on the wood. Levi clears his throat. His eyes are glassy. “The drank. I mean. Drunk. I am. I think?”

Hanji opens her mouth. Closes it. And opens it again. “ _How?_ ”

In all the years she’d known him, no matter the number of drinks the small man poured down his throat, he never seemed to get more than slightly tipsy.

And it’s impossible, she thinks. But the evidence stands, swaying before her. Levi is, to put it plainly, drunk off his ass.

Mike, the third player in their four person game (Nanaba is the fourth), is folded over the table, shaking in silent laughter.

Nanaba stares over her cards, narrow-eyed and suspicious. “What did you do?”

Mike lifts his head. Face pinched in laughter, he looks positively  _gleeful._

Erwin, unable to completely shed the cloak of authority, even at their bi-monthly officer’s game night, sighs and sets down his cards. “ _Mike._ ”

“You see,” Mike says, reining in his laughter, “Moblit managed to goad Levi into a drinking contest. As the,” he lifts two fingers, miming quotation marks, “ _impartial_ third party, I was tasked with re-filling their drinks. And, um, to even things up a bit, I  _may_  have been giving Levi shots of 150 proof rum. He finished the bottle.”

“Oh my  _god. Mike!_ ”

When Levi lists, swaying toward her, Hanji catches his arm. Red-faced and hiccupping, he sits in an unsteadily perch on the arm of her chair.

Erwin, his expression betraying mild horror, watches as their strongest soldier sways two and fro, pursing his lips as he stares vapidly into space. “How did he fail to notice he was drinking the equivalent of rubbing alcohol?”

Mike sighs, “Excessive use of bleach has probably killed his ability to smell. And by extension, affected his ability to taste.” A blink. “That, or the hard life of a soldier has left him unable to feel anything anymore.”

Hanji punches Mike’s arm at the same time that Nanaba lands a light slap on his cheek.

“Not nice,” Nanaba reprimands.

Meanwhile, still perched on the arm of her chair, Levi has begun to hum. Wrapping an arm around his waist to ensure he doesn’t topple from the precarious perch, Hanji watches him, captivated. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him _this_  unguarded.

Which makes her think. Specifically, she recalls his initial declaration.

“Levi?”

Hiccupping, he jolts, and then looks down.

“You love my smile?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then frowns, thinking hard. “No… Hold on. What I meant – what I meant  _was_. I hate it. Hate your shitty smile.”

“Really.”

And Levi is nodding. “Yeah. Hate the way it makes your eyes. Just.” His nose wrinkles. “Light up. And the smile itself. It’s so. It’s so damn wide. Dimples too. You have little dimples.” Poking her cheek, he scowls, “They’re too fucking cute.”

From across the table, Nanaba laughs. “Aw, that’s actually kind of sweet.”

He squints and lifts a finger to his lips. “Shhh…don’t tell four-eyes. She’ll know I like her.”

Erwin, who’d gone back to studying his cards, looks up. “That  _would_ be a tragedy,” he says, dryly. “You’ve been in a relationship for three years. It’s a miracle, truly, that you’ve been able to hide this fact from her.”

Levi, who had been gradually slouching down as they spoke, begins to tip, and catches himself by latching onto her. Muscled arms wrap around her shoulders. Warm breath brushes her scalp. He’s pressed his face into her hair.

Hanji, one arm bracing his back and the other supporting his legs (by now he’s nearly in her lap), pats his thigh. “Oh Levi. You’re going to be so damn embarrassed tomorrow.”

Mike snorts, “Oh I doubt he’ll remember much of anything come tomorrow.”

Face still buried in her hair, Levi groans.

At the sound, Erwin snaps to attention. “Alright. I’m pulling rank. Take him home Hanji. Before he’s sick everywhere.”

At the order, Hanji gasps. She knows  _exactly_  what he is doing. “You! You just don’t want me to win any more of your money.”

Erwin shrugs, lifting his cards. “If I keep losing I won’t be able to afford my morning coffee.”

Mike sits up. A mock-frown is smeared upon his face. He pounds a fist against the table. “Hanji! You’ve seen what he’s like without coffee. The fate of humanity may very well depend on you leaving this game.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she begins to pull Levi up. “For  _humanity_.” Holding his shoulders, she steers Levi, guiding him toward the door.

They step outside and cool air washes over them, a reprieve from the comparatively stifling heat indoors. Snaking an arm around Levi’s waist, she pulls him along. As they walk through the quiet, sleeping town, he leans against her. They haven’t walked a block before his head is pressing into her shoulder.  

“You know, it’s usually you bringing  _me_  home drunk. It’s a nice change.” A pause. “For me,” she amends. “Probably not so much for you.”

Her shoulder feels wet. She has a sneaking suspicion it’s drool.

They are nearly back when he speaks, slurred against her shoulder. “I lied. I love your stupid, fucking smile.”

She ducks her head, aforementioned smile breaking across her lips. “Yes. I know.”

“You’re my,” he hesitates, thinking. “My person,” he finishes, pressing his face into her shoulder.

Squeezing him close, she presses a kiss against his head. “And you’re mine. Now let’s get you home. I’ll have some painkillers ready for you in the morning.”

Slow and stumbling, they walk home. The night is cool. And the city, mercifully quiet.


	19. Time. And Other Borrowed Things.

“Pass me the powder. No – the vial. Yeah. Right there. That one.”

Levi’s hand, which hovered over a shelf  _filled_  to the fucking brim with vials that all frankly looked alike, plucked one up under her direction.

Focused on the subject of her experimentation, a spear-like contraption, Hange held out a hand. Her hair was wild (she hadn’t bothered to brush it in days) and she wore a pair of scuffed goggles, which when they shifted, left smudged oily outlines on her cheeks. 

Hange, the centerpiece of the controlled chaos that was her lab, looked every part the mad scientist that those who didn’t know any better, thought her to be.  

Levi knew better.

He passed her the vial of grey powder without a word.

“If this works, it will change everything,” she said.

He didn’t doubt it. Hange had a proclivity for such things. For better or worse, the world changed under her hand.

Tongue protruding between her lips, she poured the powder into a canister within the contraption.

Hunched over the device, she muttered, coaxing the cold metal with words of whispered encouragement. “You’ll work. This time, you’ll ignite.”

Levi took back the empty vial when she blindly offered it. Before he could place it back with the others, she made a small noise of dissent. Pushing oily bangs behind her ear, she nodded toward the rear of the lab. “I keep a barrel of the stuff in a secure closet. Refill it for me?”

That she’d purposely sent him away didn’t cross his mind.

The explosion rocked the closet. It was thunder in the confined lab. The barrel from which he’d been scooping tipped and black powder poured over the floor, engulfing tiny, sharp shards of glass. He’d dropped the vial.

Bilious smoke choked the lab. Drawing his cravat over his mouth, he plunged into the disaster. If she’d fucking gone and  _blown herself up_  –

Two strong hands latched over his shoulders. Hange. Her face was black with powder and one eyebrow appeared to be partially singed. She bared her teeth in a wide, almost manic grin. Roughly shaking his shoulders, she  _laughed_ , crowing her victory. “It worked!”

And for a second, he couldn’t  _see_ , so profound was his anger. 

She’d nearly blown herself up.

He pried her blackened fingers from his arms and said stiffly, “Are you done for today?”

“Aw, Levi. Don’t be mad. I was using a  _fraction_ of the gunpowder the spear can hold. It was an almost completely controlled explosion,” she said, and lifted the goggles from her eyes. “And yes. I’m done.”

“Good. I’m leaving.”

If she’d protested he would have left without pause. But she didn’t. Goggles in her hands, she watched him go. 

He was halfway across the ruined room before he turned on his heel and marched straight back. Reaching for the front of her shirt, he pulled her toward him. Pressing up on his toes, he tangled his fingers in her singed, messy hair, and dragged her into a rough, fleeting kiss.

“You’re too fucking reckless.”

“I know.”

His fingers slipped from her hair. He pressed a slower, more careful kiss against her lips.

“ _Now_  I’m leaving.”

He was still angry. But after a few hours spent hacking at Titan dummies, his frustration would lose it’s edge - he knew. She knew it too.

She smiled. “Alright. See you at dinner.”

“Fine.”

Shoving the lab door open, he let it swing behind him, ajar. He could only hope the smoke cleared out before she fucked up her lungs. 

 

Hange Zoe was reckless and brilliant and she was going to change the world.  

And it was undeniable: he loved her too fucking much for his own good. In this world, loving anyone was a risky venture. To love a woman like Hange was to court grief. It was addicting, exhilarating, and the aching, bittersweet promise of pain.

He refused to regret it. 


	20. If Time Might Slow

They harbor no illusions about time.

Blind to age or gender, title or status, it gives the same as it takes, equally and indiscriminately.

From them, it takes no more and no less than it takes from others. Time cares not for their mission, humanity’s peril, or their pledge to devote their lives to humanity’s great war. From it, they expect no boon.

Soldiers as they are: separated by rank, duty, and responsibility, time doesn’t afford them the luxury of love.

And so, from relentless, unyielding, undistinguishing time, they steal precious minutes.

Mornings are rushed. Meetings and training and reports claim them. Trapped within the orbits of individual responsibilities, their paths cross, just close enough for lingering looks and brushed hands, before they are dragged onward.

Every other day she delivers him reports. On such days the stacks that line his work area, somehow neat, even as they occupy and conquer the surface of his small desk, are piled high. And when she strides in and drops her own stack amongst them, his writing pauses. Plucking the pen from his pale fingers, she takes up his hand. Tracing the lines of his palm, brushing the creases between his fingers, she points out invisible ink stains, or perhaps, remarks on his needed to see sun. The subject matters not. Just so long as they touch.

In the afternoon, when she runs between experiments, goggles askew, forever chasing after answers, he finds her. Snagging her hand, he pulls her into a hallway, a corner, and tangles his fingers in her hair, kissing her and counting the seconds till she pulls away, helpless always, to resist her own curiosity, her ears ever attuned to knowledge’s siren call.

When they leave the safety of the walls, they haven’t the luxury of long looks and quick touches. Each step demands vigilance. Outside, time must be earned. And so they separate, devoting themselves to their jobs, their mission, their soldiers.

When they return (not  _if_  - they are thieves, determined to steal every available minute and refuse to concede death yet) they retire to their rooms. Weary, it takes the remains of their energy to strip travel-worn clothes from their backs. Clean, but for the blood and dirt clinging to the undersides of her nails, she finds him.

Pulling back covers, she slips in and sidles over, curving her body against his. Too tired to do more than wrap her arms around his wiry frame, she presses her lips to his skin. His chest rises then falls and then the embrace is returned. Nimble fingers brush over her head, half-heartedly working the tangles from her hair. She whispers against his skin, insignificant things: the new tea she tried at breakfast, the sketch Moblit gave her in the afternoon, the flowers sprouting from the dirt outside her office window against all odds.

His fingers still play through her hair, and her eyelids are weighted, but she doesn’t give in to sleep. Not yet. They are thieves, stealing precious minutes, seconds.

And so she speaks, savoring his touch as they embrace, holding out against the night. Skin against skin, they stave off sleep and will that, just this once, time itself might slow.


	21. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for levihanweek Day 3: Trapped

Fuck it all. He was trapped. 

He was trapped and he had no one to blame for this god damn fuck-up of a situation but himself. 

They had been on a scouting mission beyond the wall. A standard operation. They’d forged new ground, managed to press forward a few extra miles, far enough to reach a long abandoned village by midday. Until that point, luck had been with them. All but two had survived the initial charge from the gate (a freak abnormal had charged directly into their path). And in their second charge, when they forged into uncharted territory from their first base, they’d somehow only lost one.

So when a small horde of the grinning fucks had come stumbling in from the East, Erwin had elected to cut their losses (a few miles was a substantial enough gain) and ordered a retreat back to base. 

Levi had held back to draw some of the Titans away. It was a maneuver he’d done plenty of times before. He was fast enough to evade their reaching hands. And the distraction gave the other soldiers a head start to get away.

Five minute’s worth of distraction was more than enough to give the troops time to start their charge back. So that he didn’t draw the Titans back with him, Levi fled, weaving a twisting path between buildings. His horse, which he’d left at the edge of the town, was within sight. And as he swung, gliding over the last remaining roofs, he considered whether he would have time to oil down his saddle before they left the base.

By the time he saw the abnormal, it was nearly too late.

Its arms and legs were disjointed, bent at impossible angles. It charged, clambering over the nearest building. Its legs bunched, and it leapt.

He twisted, barely avoiding glistening teeth. He couldn’t avoid the hand. It batted him, dragging him down with the Titan. They crashed, together, into a building. Brick and wood flew, pulverized by the Titan’s hulking form. It struck Levi’s chest, his arms, his face. He raised his arms to protect his head. He struck something – the abnormal? The ground? A crack sounded above, and then a groan. There was a crash, and something struck his back. He sucked in a breath, but his lungs labored, reluctant to fill. Something was pressing down upon him.

By the time he’d blinked the dust and grime from his eyes, he realized the building had partially collapsed – and that he was beneath it. Though his head, upper chest, and arms were free, part of the roof pinned his lower back – and the abnormal lay struggling, several meters away. It’s arms and legs hand been mangled in the crash, but steam poured off its skin. The limbs were already regenerating.

He was trapped with a rapidly regenerating Titan meters away, and it was all because he’d allowed his mind to wander, thinking about his fucking tack and saddle, of all things.

Kicking lamely against the ground, the Titan wiggled, jaw snapping frantically as its eyes rolled back in its head. One of its twice-bent arms was mending. Fat, bulbous fingers twitched, as if in anticipation.

Fuck.

He had three minutes. Five minutes at most, before the bastard either regenerated fully or managed to crawl to him.

Levi strained. Digging his fingers into dry, cracked dirt, he tried to pull himself from beneath the rubble. Groaning, he wiggled. His left leg still had some freedom of movement. He kicked and his boot scrabbled against the ground. The rubble didn’t give an inch. A heavy beam pinned his back. He could feel where its rough edge dug into his tailbone. A tingling numbness had begun to creep down his legs.

The Titan moaned. Its glassy eyes were fastened upon him. It dug its chin into the dirt, fumbling over the ground with an urgency that matched Levi’s own.

Cursing, Levi twisted, attempting to reach the wood and brick that piled above him. His reaching fingers found a brick. It came loose in his hand. He tossed it away. He found another and tossed it away too. But beneath that was wood. It held fast.

The Titan was close now. He could feel its stagnant breath.

Levi growled.

Not like this. Not fucking like this. He refused.

His hands slid over dirt. His blades. He couldn’t access the ones at his hips. But he’d been holding two. Were they within reach?

He didn’t see them nearby. Levi dug into the rubble on either side of him. Brick and wood and more brick and wood. Gone. Buried or broken on brick and stone.

The Titan was nearly upon him. One arm was almost whole. It dragged itself forward. Its jaw snapped open and closed.

His hands found a brick. It wouldn’t do jack-shit, but if he was going to die in such a pathetic state, he was at least going to take one of the ugly fucker’s big, bulging eyes along with him. He hefted it up with a shout.

His shout was drowned out by another, louder cry.

He felt a gust of air – above the sun flickered in and out. A shadow flew overhead.

There was a flash of metal, blades swinging down. They buried deep within the grinning Titan’s nape. The hands holding the blades trembled. They yanked back, and the head fell forward. The blades had been driven so deep, the head was nearly severed.

Boots stumbled around the Titan. Blades clattered down. Hange dropped to her knees. She was pale.

Levi’s heart hammered, thunderous in his ears. Having death so abruptly postponed made him dizzy. Hange had come. Of course she had come. His throat burned.

“Levi.” His name heaved out, a sigh. Fumbling, she reached for his hand. Holding it, she squeezed. Her shoulders rose and fell as she struggled for her next breath. “Knew something was wrong. You,” she panted, “are so anal, you’d never be late. Hauled ass back. Came as fast as I could” She closed her eyes. “I couldn’t find you. Just saw Titans everywhere. Thought I was too late.” The fingers encircling his hand squeezed again.

Her hand was warm. The callouses on her fingers and palm were familiar - comforting. A part of him, and he would never admit just how large that part was, wanted to do nothing more than hold fast to her.

But the ground trembled.

He’d only led the hoard of Titans so far. They were coming back. And he was still trapped.

He was stronger than most, and he hadn’t been able to make the rubble budge. Hange could solve most any problem she put her mind to, but this, he had to concede, was likely beyond her abilities.

Hange’s head jerked up. She felt the tremors now too.

“Levi-”

“Hange!” He pulled her hand, dragging her attention back to him. “I can’t move. Part of the roof fell on me.”

In an instant, his hand was dropped and she was on her feet. She stood above him. Studying the fallen building, carefully prodding the bits of wood and brick in which he was ensnared. She gave the corner of the beam a push. Nothing. Grimacing, she threw her shoulder against the wood. It responded with a lazy groan, but held fast.

Bracing a hand on the wood, she stared at the ground. She blinked. “Shit.”

The ground beneath them was beginning to dance. They were coming.

Levi scrambled up onto his elbows. He grabbed her boot.

“Four-eyes. Get out of here. Now.”

Behind goggles, her eyes finally focused. They flicked to him, sharp, angry.

“That’s an order, Hange. Go!”

She didn’t move.

Fuck. Levi craned his head. They had to be almost on top of them. He’d be damned if she threw away her life here, now, because of his asinine mistake.

“Hange!”

The boot was dragged from his grip. She marched across the dirt.

He closed his eyes. Thank god.

Something slapped the dirt.

His eyes snapped open. Twin blades lay before him.

“I’ll buy you as much time as I can. In the meantime, try to hack yourself out of there.”

Raising her fingers to her lips, she released a sharp whistle. The canisters at her hips were empty. She’d given him her last blades.

She was going to attempt to draw them off. Lure them out the plains. Try to outrun them on horseback. Without a weapon.

Levi grabbed up the blade. Stretching his arm, he held it out. “Four-eyes! Go back. Tell Erwin what happened.”

The ground vibrated. This time with thundering hoof beats.

Her empty palms dangled at her sides. She flexed her fingers then clenched them into fists. She turned, sparing him a last look over her shoulder.

“Hange.”

And then her horse was there, galloping down the narrow street. Upon seeing Hange, it slowed. Eyes wild, it pranced, tossing its head as Hange grabbed up the reins. It knew what manner of beast approached.

Hange vaulted into the saddle and spurred the horse forward with a shout. It surged forward, flanks heaving as it galloped towards the very predators it sought to avoid.

His fingers scrabbled, digging fruitlessly, nails cracking against the dry ground. He might have shouted after her. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have heard.

She was gone.

The thundering steps were already growing quieter. They had a new target. A fast moving, very visible prey.

He could imagine what it would sound like, the booming steps of countless Titans bulldozing over the flat plains. Here, it was silent.

“Fuck!”

Levi grabbed up the first blade. Twisting back, he hacked at the beam. Chips of wood cracked and splintered, flying from the assaulted beam.

He would get out from beneath this damn house, and then he would find her.

The blade had begun to dull, but there was already a sizable chunk out of the wood. Grimacing, Levi adjusted his grip on the weapon and began hacking with renewed vigor. A chip flew at his face, and when he closed his eyes he saw an abnormal leaping forward, her horse screaming, its back leg snagged by reaching fingers. Hange, thrown from the saddle, tumbling, rolling limp over dirt.

His eyes snapped open. He slammed the blade into the wood. It snapped. Cursing, he grabbed up the second blade. He didn’t need to close his eyes to envision the scene that followed. The abnormal reaching her first. Grabbing her up, limp and dangling. Opening its impossibly wide mouth, and Hange blinking, coming-to just in time to see those gaping jaws.

Levi ground his teeth, chipping into the wood with a near manic fervor. He’d seen a lifetime’s worth of death. Infinite scenarios rose all too quickly to mind. And Hange was racing across an open plane, on a tired horse, without a single weapon. The odds were already stacked against her.

The blade dug into the wood. Levering it back and forth, he was able to pop a large chunk loose from the beam. His legs were almost completely numb, but he shifted, attempting an experimental wiggle. His back still touched wood. He felt skin scraping, tearing against the jagged beam. But he could move.

Dropping the blade, he dug his fingers into the ground. His toes scrabbled for purchase as he dragged himself forward. Pain flared in a burning path down the center of his back – but then he was out.

He leapt up – and collapsed. His legs, still numb from loss of circulation, had folded beneath him. Panting and cursing, Levi massaged down his thighs, working to get the blood flowing again. When his legs finally began to regain some feeling – fuzzy numbness had transformed to pinpricks of pain – he stumbled to his feet.

Now he just needed his horse.

Drawing his fingers to his lips, he released a shrill whistle. It echoed, a lonely, solitary sound in the abandoned town.

He grabbed up the one remaining blade. It had dulled to the point of being all but useless. But it was better than nothing.

He looked up to the sound of hoof beats.

His stomach plummeted.

It wasn’t his horse, but Hange’s. The gray mare skittered toward him. Foam dribbled from its mouth and its flanks were coated in a sheen of sweat. The saddle was empty.

Levi felt sick.

The horse, shivering, sidled closer. It looked at him, expectant.

His hands shook. He forced them into fists.

That god damn, fucking, idiot. She’d – countless scenarios played out in his head. He knew there was any number of ways a Titan could unhorse a rider, and he’d seen first-hand what happened to those riders. Especially when no one was close enough to come to their aid.

The horse snorted. Its large head nudged his shoulder.

Absently, he reached up, taking hold of her reins.

Hange wouldn’t have fallen. She was too good of a rider for that. If she’d been unhorsed, it was because she’d been knocked from the saddle – or grabbed.

Levi stared at the ground. His eyes traced the cracks beneath his boots, counting them. Doing anything to avoid arriving at the next thought.

It came nonetheless.

If Hange had been unhorsed, it meant a Titan had gotten her. And if a Titan had gotten her, she would have had no weapons with which to fight back.

Because she’d left them with him.

His shoulders shuddered. His fingernails dug into his palms.

Damn her.

He held the horse’s reins. They wrapped around his hand, a lifeline against his palm. He squeezed.

He could go out looking for her body. But there was no way of telling precisely which direction she’d ridden. Or how much of her would be left to find.

His eyes squeezed shut.

Damn her!

Her horse shifted.

He opened his eyes. A deep breath in. And out. He made quick work of adjusting the stirrups and reached for the saddle.

Atop the horse, he looked over the town. Silent, and just about as empty as he felt. Turning, he spurred the horse forward.

A whistle shrieked in the distance.

The horse’s ears perked. Levi jerked up. Twisting around, he nearly unseated himself from the saddle.

It sounded again. Far away. Beseeching.

He yanked back the reins. With a cry, he turned, driving the horse in a canter back the way he’d come.

The horse’s flanks heaved. It snorted, drawing labored breaths. It was dangerous to drive her this fast so soon after her last run. But that whistle meant somehow, somewhere, Hange was alive. She was alive and stranded without a horse.

They galloped from the town, abandoning the safety of the buildings. The plane opened up before them, perilous and wide.

As the horse thundered over the pale sea of grass, Levi dared to lift slightly up in the saddle. Where could she have gone?

Squinting, he scanned the plane. He squeezed the reins. He needed her to make more noise.

As if on cue, a whistle pierced the air.

Levi sat up. It had come from the East.

In that direction, a forest stretched, nothing more than a shadow across the horizon. She couldn’t have made it that far. But half as far, a copse of trees sprouted up, an island of green upon the plain. That she could have managed. With a muttered apology, Levi spurred Hange’s horse onward.

As he rode, he heard the whistle twice more.

Distance had played with his perception. What appeared nothing more than a thicket, was in actuality a very large grove of trees. Trees with thick trunks and wide boughs had grown tall here. Healthy canopies shielded and shaded the miniature forest.

With a careful pull of the reins, he directed the wheezing mare into the trees. Her hooves plodded, crunching over fallen leaves.

Levi whistled, a low answer to Hange’s shrill calls.

There was a scrape, then the uneven patter of broken footsteps and the crunch off crushed leaves. “Levi!” Hange emerged, stumbling from a tall thicket of bushes.

He was off the horse, though he couldn’t remember dismounting. Hange’s face lit in a jubilant smile. Eyes bright, she hurried across the meadow in a hobbling half run. Her right ankle couldn’t seem to fully hold her weight.

Her cheeks were flush and she practically sang. “You got yourself out! And you heard my whistle!” There were leaves and broken twigs stuck in her hair. “I knew I couldn’t outrun them, so I rode into the trees and jumped off, hoping to hide in the foliage. I wasn’t sure I could hide from them. And if I did, my horse was so worked up, I wasn’t sure even my whistle would bring her back. I thought this might be it.”

And then she reached him. Gripping his arms, she grinned. “But here you are.”

He stared at her.

She blinked. “Levi?”

He’d never been good with words. And now there were simply too many, bubbling up from his chest, crowding his throat, filling his mouth.

Half were expletives. But those that weren’t were a baffling variety.

You’re an idiot. Did any part of you expect to survive this? You scared the living fuck out of me. I think I love you more than I have any right to. What would I have told Erwin? Moblit? You’re one of my last friends.

But it was too many words. More than he could communicate at once. 

Instead he said, “Your horse came back without you on it.”

Of course, he needn’t have said more. She’d always understood.

She deflated, like a sail suddenly robbed of wind. “I felt the same.” Leaning forward, she gripped his shoulder. “Today, when you didn’t catch up with us. And then I couldn’t find you…” She sighed. “I think the both of us might have felt too many emotions for one day.”

She stepped back. “On the way back we can think up a good story to tell Erwin. Something better than you got buried under a building and I jumped off my horse. Yeah?” She joked half-heartedly, smiling again, as if the whole day hadn’t been a fucking awful experience for everyone involved.

Still feeling uncomfortably raw from the sheer number of emotions he’d experienced in the last hour alone – and thinking that his being buried and her insane decision to jump off a moving horse made for a plenty good story – Levi had a brief and strange flashback to his youth in the underground. He was spent and his emotions were frayed and he very much wanted to hit something.

But it had been years since that life had fully claimed him.

He stepped forward, and in a jerking motion wrapped his arms around her. Once she was solidly in his arms, he squeezed.

Hange, who’d initially stiffened at the rushed move, immediately relaxed. She sighed, and her breath brushed over his head. And then her arms were wrapping around his shoulders, squeezing him back.

He should have known; she understood even this.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. She said, her voice breathy, “Ah, Levi. A little tight.”

His hands flew up and he flushed.

He didn’t give many hugs.

As he pulled back, she pressed an affectionate kiss against his head. “Let’s go home.”

They crossed the grassy plane in a fast trot. Hange’s horse would have at most one more gallop in her. They’d need to save it in case they were pressed.

Levi guided the horse, vigilantly scanning the surrounding area. Hange sat behind him, carefully holding her injured ankle clear of the horse’s rear leg and flank. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and when she wasn’t checking for Titan activity at their rear, she leaned forward, resting her chin on his shoulder.

As they made their measured journey back to base, Hange chatted, considering alternate, more thrilling versions of their adventures, while her fingers played absently with the buttons on his shirt. While he was occasionally goaded into protest by a particularly absurd re-telling of the day’s events, by and large he was content to listen, letting her distracted hands tickle his stomach, and feeling her breaths brush over his hair and tickle the back of his neck.

As they traveled across sloping hills of green, beneath the limitless blue that stretched above, with her voice at his ear and the leather reins in hand, he could almost imagine they existed in a world of their own.


	22. I Almost Lost You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I almost lost you."

In retrospect, it was a foolish mistake. Everyone knew to check their saddle before riding.

Hanji had been rushed. Her experiment had run long. She’d been hurried, shouting results for Moblit to record, even as they dashed to the stables. Everyone was already gathered. A stable hand passed her the reins to her horse. Erwin was at the front, and Levi waited at his side, glaring in her direction – likely annoyed to have been kept waiting.

She hopped on the horse without a thought. Tucked beneath the horse’s belly, the frayed girth was hidden from sight.

They rode hard for the walls. They’d gotten a late start, and Erwin was determined to make up for lost time. They would need it once they pushed forward in the expedition.

The wall had been in sight. Dust choked the air as hooves pounded the dirt-paved road. A formation of birds flew overhead. Craning her neck, Hanji rose in her saddle to get a better look and –

Something snapped.

The stirrup on her left side plunged suddenly down. And then she was sliding – pitching sideways. She grabbed for the horse’s back, but her fingers found no purchase. Her right foot was tangled in the other stirrup, and she was falling. She saw the dirt packed road, and realized with a horrible, sinking certainty that she was going to hit the ground. She curled.

Her shoulder hit first. The world turned on its head and her teeth slammed painfully together. She was rolling. She couldn’t breathe. Hoof beats were the last thing she heard.

When she woke, it was quiet. Her head ached and there was a terrible, pulsing pain at the back of her skull. She had a feeling that opening her eyes would make everything that much worse, and so she kept them closed. Without meaning to, she sank back into unconsciousness.

When she next woke, she heard voices. Someone was speaking above her head.

“Why the hell hasn’t she woken up?”

“It’s a serious concussion. It could be hours still before we see signs of consciousness.”

“Can’t you do something?  _You’re a doctor. That’s your job_.”

“Mr. Levi, sir. We’ve  _already done_  many things. Now it’s just a matter of waiting.”

There were receding footsteps and then the sound of a chair squeaking. It was followed by a heavy sigh.

“ _Fucking useless_.”

Hanji felt like she had sunk beneath a heavy body of water. Her thoughts were sluggish and her body was slow to respond. It was maddening.

It was ten long minutes before she finally managed to open her eyes. Lids fluttering, she squinted, blinking at the bright room. As if opening her eyes was the catalyst that allowed her to breach the surface of those dark waters, she at once came fully awake. And  _oh_  – it hurt. Everywhere.

Her arms and legs felt weighted. There were throbbing points of pain on each of her limbs. Even slow, shallow breaths sparked a sharp ache in her chest. Blinking up at the ceiling, Hanji wiggled her fingers and toes, attempting to mentally categorize her injuries.

Aching chest: a rib or two might be cracked or broken. Sharp pain in her head: the doctor had confirmed she had a concussion. Her arms, legs, and torso were in pain, but she could easily move all of her fingers and toes. No limbs seemed to be broken.

There was movement on her left.

Levi sat in the chair beside the bed. One leg was crossed over the other and he twisted in his seat, reading a chart on the wall. His leg came uncrossed as he turned around. Bags like dark bruises painted the skin beneath his eyes. He looked out the window across from the bed, and then down at her. He met her gaze.

He tensed. It was the only hint that she’d startled him.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and glared. “Fucking finally.”

“Goodmorning- ah,” Hanji said, and gasped. She chuckled weakly and lowered her voice, “Talking hurts as well.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. You fell off your horse.”

Ah. So she had.

Hanji closed her eyes, remembering the snap.

“The girth broke.”

“No shit,” Levi said. “I’ve already had a word with the stable hand who saddled your horse. But seriously,  _what the hell were you thinking_? Not checking your tack?”

It had been foolish, of that she was well aware. Hanji didn’t particularly want to listen to Levi lecture her about her error, however - especially now, when her bruises were raw and her body was aching.

Hanji turned her head, neck twinging at the motion. “I was in a hurry, Levi.”

“You couldn’t spare a few seconds?”

“Not when you were giving me a death glare!”

Levi sputtered. “I wasn’t glaring – that’s just, that’s  _just my face_ ,” he said, glaring.

Hanji glared back – at least, she tried to. But her head still pounded, and her body ached, and this argument was taking more energy than she had to spare. She groaned, “I learned my lesson. Is that what you want to hear? I was there, Levi. I experienced first-hand what happens when you neglect to check your riding gear.”

“I was there too. I saw you fall. Hey-”

She’d turned away from him, and was glaring stubbornly out the window. Levi grabbed her arm. She flinched as pain blossomed at the touch.

His hand snapped open and he paled, “Shit,” he swore, retracting his hand. 

When he next spoke, he was quieter. He clasped his hands on his knees, careful not to touch her bruised limbs. “Fuck, Hanji. I saw everything. You were fucking  _inches_ from going under your horse’s hooves.”

He was sitting, perched on the edge of his chair, unusually still. Hanji turned back, and really looked at him.

He stared at her, his brows drawn together and lips set in a firm line. He was angry, but there was another emotion. Barely hidden, it was on the cusp of overwhelming the façade of anger. It took her a moment to identify it.

Fear.

Hanji sank back into the pillows.

It was unusual for Levi to be so transparent with his emotions. Her fall must have looked even worse than it felt, for fear, even after-the-fact, to be written so clearly on his face.

She reached for his hand, but stopped when the muscles in her shoulder violently protested the motion. Fingering the hospital blankets, she met his gaze. She wouldn’t apologize for the mistake – not to him. But she could apologize for something else. “I’m sorry, Levi. For scaring you.”

He looked away. His hands fisted over his knees. His silence was admission enough; she’d struck upon the truth of the matter.

The pillows behind her neck were mercifully soft. Her body throbbed and her eyelids felt uncommonly weighted. She sighed, and closed her eyes. As her mind drifted, meandering back into the realm of sleep, she had a sudden thought, and murmured, “Hope I didn’t mess up the expedition.”

Levi chuckled, dry. When he spoke, he sounded far away. “You must be concussed if it took you this long to ask about the expedition.” There was a long pause. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Hanji didn’t think that sounded particularly promising, and she meant to press him for an answer. When she tried to speak, however, her lips refused to move.

It was quiet, and she was nearly asleep when he spoke again.

“I almost lost you.” He huffed, and then there were fingers brushing over her hair, “To a goddamn horse, of all things.”

It certainly would have been an unremarkable way to go. She tried to say it - but her limbs were heavy and the blankets warm. She was already sinking, drifting back into the quiet depths of sleep.

There was warmth against her cheek, like the caress of skin. Or lips. She heard his low voice speaking, but the words were muted, distant. He said something else, something about  _love,_ perhaps. But the warm embrace of unconsciousness already cradled her, and she wondered if she might have imagined it.


	23. I'm In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."

Erwin marched, smoothly adjusting the bolo tie at his neck. It was a nervous habit. Not that he was nervous, per-se. Though he could admit, there was a particular anxiousness that churned in his gut.

He’d been called to a meeting with their groundskeeper, a man who went by the name of Mortimer Crankwater, and was every bit as unpleasant as his name suggested. Mortimer, a thin, rail of a man was in charge of maintaining Headquarters and the large plot of land that surrounded it. He had a team of workers, and had been given leave by the powers-that-be to siphon any necessary funds from the Survey Corp’s budget. It was a power that gave Erwin Smith no small amount of grief. It seemed that there was always something that his clean-up crew was lacking, and Mortimer never hesitated to draw funds from the Survey Corps ever dwindling budget.

And now, Mortimer had called Erwin to a meeting. A meeting to discuss, of all things, formal disciplinary action against two of Erwin’s top officers. It was  ridiculous, of course. Levi and Hanji weren’t guilty of – Erwin glanced down at the written summons –  _willful and/or negligent destruction of government property_. He frowned. No, Mortimer Crankwater was clearly mistaken, Erwin thought, and promptly reached up to adjust his tie.

Mortimer was waiting outside Erwin’s office when he arrived. Pale, gray hair was slicked back over his head, and when he frowned, wrinkles took shape around his mouth.

“Mortimer Crankwater,” Erwin called, sliding on the most natural smile he could muster. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Reaching out, Erwin held open the door for him.

Sniffing, Mortimer entered. He held a file to his chest.

When he circled his desk, Erwin was pleased to note his assistant had heated tea. Pulling two teacups from a shelf, Erwin poured two cups and sat. He lifted his own glass, and took a fortifying sip. He smiled. “Now what can I help you with Mortimer?”

Mortimer did not return the smile. Pursing his lips, he flipped open the file. “Levi Ackerman and Hanji Zoe destroyed government property. I’ll need funds to repair the damage they’ve done, and I want to request that you give them some manner of formal punishment.”

Erwin blinked and folded his hands. “Mortimer, what  _precisely_  do you think they did?”

“They used your damn 3D maneuvering gear outside  _our own_  Headquarters. One of them smashed through a window, and the other flew through the broken window and promptly spilled gallons of cleaning liquid over antique carpets,” Mortimer took a breath and forged on. “And I don’t  _think_  they did it! I’ve got witness testimony!” Mortimer jabbed his finger at the papers in the folder, “I’ve got it right here.”

Erwin could feel his left eyebrow beginning to twitch. Clearing his throat, he reached up, and for the third time that day, adjusted his tie.

He smiled. “Mortimer, one moment please.”

As Mortimer Crankwater sat, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, Erwin called in his assistant. He asked her to bring Levi and Hanji to their meeting.

As they waited for the accused to arrive, Erwin re-filled their tea.

There was a swift knock on the door. It opened and Hanji entered, then Levi.

Hanji had several shallow lacerations on her face and walked with a visible limp. Levi, who walked behind her, appeared fine – until he got close enough for Erwin to get a whiff of him. He smelled nauseatingly of chemical cleaner.

Erwin got up to open a window as Levi and Hanji pulled up two chairs. Silent, they sat between Erwin and Mortimer.

Sitting carefully, Erwin refolded his hands. He looked at his subordinates with a cool stare. “Mortimer Crankwater has made some serious accusations against the two of you. Would either of you know anything about that?”

Hanji and Levi shared a quick glance and Levi said “No” as Hanji said “Yes.”

Erwin closed his eyes. He could feel a headache building in the space between his temples. When he opened his eyes, Erwin looked back to Mortimer. “What, exactly, do your witnesses say happened?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Licking his finger, Mortimer leafed through the papers. “The first witness statement, I wrote myself.” He cleared his throat. “This morning, one Levi Ackerman came to my office requesting that I send people to clean the outside panes of his room’s windows and outside the long, neighboring hallway.”

As Mortimer spoke, Levi stared murderously at him from across the desk.

“I told him that I could not spare any of my people today, but that I’d have someone get to it by the end of the week.”

Erwin looked to Levi. “That sounds reasonable.”

Levi wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Mortimer folded his arms. “He called me a,” Mortimer paused, glancing down at his notes, “ _stingy shit-wad_  and gave me the middle finger before walking away.”

Erwin looked back at Levi. He could feel the headache, a tangible pressure, building behind his temples.

“Levi?”

Levi folded his arms. He glared down at the desk. “A dust storm went through yesterday. The windows are fucking filthy. It’s unsightly. No one should have to look at them for a week.”

Erwin took a slow, measured drink of tea and looked back to Mortimer. “And what do you allege happened next?”

Mortimer grinned thinly, “I’m glad you asked.”

Levi stared, disgusted, as Mortimer licked his finger again and began flipping through the pages.

“Ah. Here were are.” He cleared his throat. “A soldier overheard Levi Ackerman talking with Hanji Zoe outside the barracks. He was complaining about, and I quote,  _that stingy geriatric asshole with a bad toupee_  leaving his windows uncleaned.” Mortimer frowned at the pair across the desk. “The soldier noted that at that point, Hanji Zoe suggested the possibility of using 3D maneuvering gear to clean the windows on their own. She asked Mr. Ackerman  _if he_   _was in_.”

Licking his finger, Mortimer turned the page, “At which point, Levi Ackerman said, and I quote,  _this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in._ ”

Erwin leaned forward.  He could all too easily imagine that exact conversation. He could hear their voices. Elbows braced on his desk, he massaged circles into his forehead. Lifting his head, Erwin spoke, voice flat, “What happened next?”

Hanji and Levi shared a weary glance.

Mortimer flipped leisurely through the papers in the file. “Now let’s see. The official record – from multiple witnesses – is that your Hanji Zoe and Levi Ackerman took copious amounts of cleaning supplies from my storage closets and proceeded to use their 3D maneuvering gear to repel at high speeds up the outer walls of Headquarters,” Mortimer said, and cleared his throat before flipping the page. “They were halfway done cleaning when it appears Hanji Zoe’s maneuvering gear snagged on a window and she was accidentally propelled  _through_  one of the closed windows.”

Hanji half-heartedly wiped at one of her lacerations, curling her lip as she glared at the groundskeeper.

“After she crashed through the window, Levi Ackerman followed after, apparently concerned for her well-being. He followed at a fast speed, and in his rush the buckets of cleaning supply in his grasp were overturned. They spilled all over and ruined the antique rug in the officer’s hall.”

Erwin closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh. If these were all accurate witness testimonies – and at this point, he was pretty damn sure they were – the evidence was all but damning against them. The headache pounded behind his temples and Erwin could  _see_  the funds leaving the Survey Corps coffers.

Though perhaps – perhaps there was some explanation. Something that Mortimer had missed and Erwin had not considered. Erwin turned to face his soldiers.

“Hanji. Levi. How do you answer these accusations? Do you have some defense?”

Levi met his gaze, sullen and silent.

“I have no excuse,” Hanji said. “It was an accident. My gear got stuck and I did go through the window,” she admitted, before adding, “And that rug might have been pricey, but to be frank – it was the ugliest rug in the building.”

Levi stifled a snort.

Erwin liked to believe he was a calm man. But at that moment, with Mortimer  _fucking_ Crankwater smirking at him from across the desk and his two top officers stifling laughter like overgrown children, he felt a finely cultivated patience slipping.

Erwin took another sip of tea. He could feel his right eyebrow beginning to twitch.

“Levi. Hanji.”

He set the cup down.

“For the next month, you’ll be reporting to Mortimer. You’ll assist him with any and all maintenance duties. This will both serve as your punishment and as a means to of payment to cover the cost of any damages you incurred.”

Erwin’s command was followed by absolute silence. And then –

“Fuck no.”

“Erwin,  _please!_ ”

Across from him, Mortimer clutched the desk. “Erwin _, I don’t want them_ ,” Mortimer hissed, horrified.

“ _Enough!_ ” Erwin clutched his tea-cup, his headache at near melt-down levels. Standing, he pointed at Levi and Hanji, “Report to Mortimer first thing tomorrow.” Erwin turned, pointing to Mortimer, “And  _you_  will take their help and won’t ask for any money –  _at least_  for the next month,” he finished, bracing his hands on his desk. “Any questions?”

Three heads shook.

“Then you are dismissed.”

Mortimer collected his papers and shuffled out of the room, glancing nervously at Levi and Hanji. 

Levi and Hanji, not far behind, stared daggers at the back of the groundskeeper’s head. As they stepped through the door, Mortimer sneered at them and turned swiftly on his heel. The doors swung closed, but not before Erwin saw Levi inelegantly flip the groundskeeper off as Hanji dragged him away by the collar of his jacket.

And then, finally,  _finally_  it was mercifully quiet.

Sinking back in his chair, Erwin finished his drink. For the next month, he imagined he’d need his assistant to prepare him something far stronger than tea.


	24. Moblit the Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I think we need to talk."

Moblit Berner did not consider himself to be particularly brave. That’s not to say he didn’t do his job. He did. And he liked to think he did it well. But he’d never been able to easily forget the queasy feeling of fear. It seemed to strike Moblit at the most inopportune times.

Such as now.

He intended to speak with Captain Levi Ackerman. Or rather, he’d  _been_  intending to speak with Captain Levi Ackerman – for the better part of the morning. Paying only half a mind to his regular duties, Moblit had watched Levi go about his business, waiting for the right moment to approach him.

It wasn’t that Moblit was scared of Levi. The captain did, however, have a certain unapproachable quality, and Moblit found himself waiting for the right moment to strike up a conversation.

The moment came sooner than expected.

As Moblit climbed the stairs from the storage rooms, a hand snagged his collar. Moblit grasped the front of his shirt and spun, instinctively raising his fist. It was caught in an iron grasp.

Levi stared at him, unamused. “Why are you following me around, Berner?”

Well that  _was_  the question. Truth be told, Moblit had woken that morning feeling a pressing urge to talk to the short captain. The night before, Moblit had dreamt of heat and flames.

They were leaving for Shiganshina soon. To attempt to seal the wall.

Even long after he’d risen from bed, Moblit couldn’t seem to forget the hot lick of fire.

All his life, Moblit had listened to his instincts. They told him when to flee and when to fight, when to seek help, and most of all, when Hanji was a few steps too close to an experiment’s snapping jaws.  _A Berner’s instincts were, after all, their family’s most valuable possession_ , or so his grandmother had said.

And so, when Moblit had awoken, still feeling the heat of the dream, and with a newfound, pressing urge to speak to Levi Ackerman, he’d set about finding him.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Did you lose Hanji? Again?”

Ignoring the jab, Moblit glanced up the stairway to ensure they were alone. He needed to speak with Levi, and this was as good a place as any.

“Captain Levi,” Moblit began, scratching the back of his neck, “I think we need to talk.”

Levi lifted a brow, “You  _think_ we need to talk? Do we or don’t we? I’m busy.”

“We need to talk,” Moblit said, nodding, as if to confirm it himself. And then hesitated, considering how to begin. “You and Hanji are close,” he blurted.

Levi’s eyes narrowed. There was a barely perceptible stiffening in his posture. “What is this?” he ground out, “Some kind of accusation-”

“No – no,” Moblit lifted his hands, “I’m not accusing – I mean, I don’t care  _what your relationship-_ ”

“Then what  _are_ you doing?”

Moblit felt Levi’s glare like two hot coals boring into him – and couldn’t help but remember the dream.

Straightening, Moblit met Levi’s stare and said, “When Hanji can’t sleep, chamomile tea with milk and honey helps to calm her down.”

Levi watched him with narrowed eyes. “I know that Berner.”

“Did you know that when she’s anxious about an experiment, sometimes we read through her old notes? It helps her relax. When that fails, I’ve got some lemon balm. She likes the smell.”

“Berner,” Levi said, slow and suspicious. “Why are you telling me this shit?”

But how could he  _explain_ the heat and the flames? Instead, Moblit pushed on, “Listen, it doesn’t happen often, but if she drinks too much, make sure someone’s with her. She likes to go to high places and I’m afraid she forgets she’s not wearing her gear.

“And _I know_ you know - she holds herself accountable for a lot of the shit that’s happened. Her amazing memory is a curse just as often as it’s a blessing. Make her laugh, because sometimes it helps her forget.”

Levi listened, silent as Moblit stammered on. “She tells everyone her favorite game is chess, but it’s actually poker. If she’s had anything to drink, she’ll try to make it strip poker,” Moblit said, and blushed. “And I’m sure you probably know, when she’s not talking about her research, she’s a really good listener. If you tell her your problems, it’ll make you feel better. And it makes her happy. She likes to feel like she’s helping.”

Moblit took a breath. His throat ached, “Please tell me you’ll talk to her.”

Silent and still, Levi observed him. “What is this about?”

Sagging, Moblit leaned against the nearest wall. He tipped his head back as though he might fight the answer in the ceiling above. “We’re leaving for Shiganshina soon, and I, uh, I had a dream. It’s just, I – I’ve got a bad feeling. It might be nothing, but…” Moblit closed his eyes, because  _here it was_ , the crux of the matter, “I don’t want her to be alone.”

It was quiet, save for the sound of distant voices. There was a thud, as if something on the floor above had been dropped.

“She won’t be,” Levi said. Quiet. Certain. “In a month, we’ll be back from sealing the wall and you can continue doing all the shit you normally do with her.”

Moblit’s gut twinged. He wanted it to be wrong.  _God_ , this once he would do anything for it to be wrong. He’d woken feeling terrifyingly impermanent.

Moblit surged forward, grabbing Levi by the shoulder. “ _Please_ , Captain Levi – tell me you’ll be here for her.”

Cold fingers pried his hand away. “I’m not going anywhere,” Levi muttered.

And there it was. It was what he’d needed to hear. The tight knot in Moblit’s chest relaxed. He could breathe. “You won’t leave her?”

Levi was watching him. There was a curious weight in his stare. Halfway between a breath and a sigh, Levi finally answered, “Not if I can help it.”

As soon as the words were said, the air felt curiously heavy, as if weighted by the magnitude of the things that had been shared between them. Beneath such weight, both men went silent. It occurred to Moblit that, perhaps, nothing more needed to be said.

Levi seemed to be of the same opinion. Glancing down, he straightened his coat. He left Moblit with a somber nod. His boots tapped a slow, even rhythm as he climbed the stairs.

And inexplicably, Moblit knew – they would not speak of this. Like he knew that if he left for Shiganshina, he would not return.

It was the cold sweat upon his brow. The nervous churning in his gut. His instincts had yet to mislead him.

It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. Not now.

Hanji would likely be looking for him. Earlier, she’d requested his assistance out on the lawn. She’d been working on a new weapon.

Moblit climbed the stairs, his steps heavy, and his shoulders weighed down with fear – for future demons, though their features were vague and their shapes indistinct. Moblit’s instincts told him only that he had to fear – but not  _what_  it washe should be fearing.

The conversation with Levi had calmed him, somewhat, at least. The fire from the dream still weighed heavy upon him, but Moblit took solace in Levi’s admission - in the quiet love the captain tried so hard to hide. Hanji would not be alone. That was something.

Moblit opened the door, and sunlight struck his face. He squinted as the morning rays beat down upon him, pleasantly warming his skin. In the distance, he could hear Hanji’s happy shouts.

When the time came, he hoped he could be brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries for days


	25. Cookie Crisis

Hanji was up to her elbows in flour and dough. She was sure she had some in her hair as well. Whenever she moved, flour fluttered down like snow, sprinkling over her nose.

The kitchen was in an even worse state. In addition to sporadic splatterings of flour and dough, baking sheets lined the counter and the sink was overflowing with mixing bowls and spoons.

Hanji blew a breath as she slid another completed tray of cookies into a large container. The kitchen table was stacked high with tupperware – all filled to the brim with cookies.

It was an emergency.

Nanaba volunteered at a local animal shelter, and every year they held bi-annual bake sales to raise funds for the rescue animals. This year, however, three of their bakers had come down with the flu. As a result, there was projected to be a distressing lack of baked goods at the bake sale this year.

Nanaba had been baking all morning, and had called Hanji, practically in tears.

Now Hanji wasn’t much of a baker. But she  _could_  bake cookies – and bake cookies, she had.

With flour-coated hands perched proudly on her hips, Hanji surveyed the mountain of tupperware.  _Yes. That would do._

Nanaba would be picking up the cookies in an hour. Hanji had initially worried that she wouldn’t have time to finish, but as it turned out, she had time to spare. Now to do something about the kitchen before-

“What the actual fuck.”

Levi stood in the doorway. Shopping bags in hand, he stared at the kitchen in abject horror.

“I saved Nanaba’s bake sale!” Hanji said, and spread her arms wide, presenting the arsenal of cookies behind her.

Dropping the bags in a relatively flour-free patch of floor, Levi stepped gingerly through the chaos. “At what cost?”

Hanji waved dismissively. “Oh don’t worry about this. I’ll clean it up.”

Levi looked from her, to the counters, and then to the sink. And then he was in motion, frantically rolling his sleeves. “I’ll start on the dishes. You get the floor.”

Groaning, Hanji rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I was going to let it sit for a little bit. I heard that makes cookie dough and flour easier to clean up.”

Levi turned the sink water on high. “That is the most blatant lie I’ve ever heard, you lazy asshole.”

Hanji laughed. Tucking a flour dusted strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned against the counter. “Levi. Kiss me.”

Levi glanced up from the steaming sink. He was in the process of vigorously attacking a mixing bowl with a sponge. “Come over here and make me,” He blew a breath. “Maybe you can clean the counters while you’re at it. I mean what even is this shi—mmmphf.”

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Hanji captured his mouth in a solid kiss.

Levi twisted. Reaching blindly behind him, he managed to turn off the water. Hanji’s hands moved from his shoulders to his face, leaving white prints in their wake.

As they pulled apart, Levi glanced down at himself and sighed. “Shit, really? You had to flour me too?”

Hanji grinned, idly playing with his coat. “I suppose we’ll have to take a shower before we do anything else.”

The corner of Levi’s lips turned up, and then he was holding her face. He pressed his lips against hers in a slow, languid kiss. Hanji melted.

Nose to nose, he whispered against her lips, “Alright. We’ll take a shower…but you know what we’re going to do first?” His thumb traced her jaw and then over her lips.

Hanji breathed, “What?”

Levi leaned in. His hair tickled her cheek. At her ear, he spoke, his voice low, “we’re going to… _clean up this fucking mess._ ”

“ _Levi no._ ”

A wet sponge struck her solidly in the face.


	26. That One Time Hanji Punched a Bully in the Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High School AU

She hated bullies.

After third grade, when Bobby Harbringer hid her glasses behind the school gymnasium, Hanji had come to detest everything they stood for.

And so, when she came upon Zach and his belligerent posse a few blocks from the High School, Hanji stopped. They’d gathered on an empty lot. Laughing cruelly, they surrounded some poor shmuck.

Tugging at her backpack, Hanji marched across the lot, broken glass crunching under foot.

When she got closer, she saw the shmuck was actually Levi Ackerman. Though the short, sullen student was quiet, he wasn’t a common target of bullies – mostly because he tended to treat bullies, and anyone else who pissed him off, to a solid punch in the face.

Zach stood in front of Levi, waving a white cloth in the air.

Levi’s cravat.

She had no idea why he held on to that particular piece of cloth, but Levi always seemed to have it on him.

And now Zach had it. Wheezing with laughter, Zach tucked the cloth sloppily into the neckline of his t-shirt. “Do I look cool guys?”

Zach’s four friends laughed uproariously.

Levi bared his teeth in an angry grimace. “Give it the fuck back.” His fists shook.

Zach, who stood several inches taller than Levi, stared down his nose. “Nah. Don’t want to.”

She didn’t know Levi all that well, but he’d never gone out of his way to hurt anyone. In fact, for as long as she’d known him, he was more than happy to mind his own business.

But Zach and his friends, they enjoyed being cruel.

Hanji shrugged off her backpack. It hit the ground with a thud.

The boys whirled around.

“Take off his cravat, Zack. Give it back. Now.”

Zach paused, looking her over. Snorting dismissively, he turned away.

Elbowing one of his friends aside, Hanji pushed her way to Levi’s side. She scowled up at Zach’s ugly face.

He glared down at her, “What the hell do you want?”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“And  _you_  heard what I told your friend.  _I don’t want to_.”

She glanced at Levi, “You really can’t get it from him?” She’d seen him bring down bigger guys than Zach.

Levi’s shoulders shook. He stared at Zach, murder in his eyes.

Zach laughed. “Shrimp here can’t do a  _damn thing._  Everyone knows he’ll be expelled if he gets in another fight,” He ran a grimy hand over the cloth. “Isn’t that right?”

Hanji pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. Her pulse pounded behind her temples. She  _really, truly hated_ bullies. Tilting her head, she stepped towards Zach.

“Hey Zach, buddy.  _He_ might not be able to punch your teeth in, but guess what?”

Her fist struck his face with a satisfying smack.

“ _I_  can-”

Zach dropped. Squealing, he slapped his hands over bleeding lips.

“-you abhorrent, piece of shit,” Hanji hissed, shaking out her hand.

The other boys were frozen, looking between Hanji and their friend on the ground.

“Who’s next?!” Hanji shouted, lifting her other fist.

Paling, the boys stumbled back. One tripped over his own feet, and scrambled up, swearing as he ran after the others. Calling muffled, angry curses over his shoulder, Zach fled, his hands still pressed over his mouth.

The cravat lay, abandoned on the ground. Hanji bent and retrieved it. She passed it to Levi with a grin.

“Shit Four-Eyes,” Levi said, staring at her as if she were both strange and wonderful at once. Careful hands folded the cravat and tucked it neatly away in his backpack. He looked up. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Inspecting her knuckles, Hanji muttered, “Of course I didn’t have to. Zach is an asshole. And I hate bullies.”

Levi looked at her. He frowned, wrinkling his nose in thought. Finally, “Thanks. I would actually have been expelled if I’d fought those assholes.” He sighed and mumbled,”Been in too many fights this year.”

Hanji laughed. “Zach needed a good punch. Glad I was here to deliver it. Though,” she said, grimacing down at her throbbing hand, “I could probably work on my technique.”

“Here. Let me take a look,” Levi said. And then gentle fingers were holding her abused hand. Cool skin brushed over her scraped knuckles.

“Ice it when you get home,” Levi said, releasing her. His cold fingers had been a balm on her sore knuckles, and she missed them the instant he drew them back. “It’s bruised, but it will heal.”

Hanji stepped back, awkwardly scooping up her backpack with her non-dominant hand. “I’ll do that.” She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “See you later, Levi.”

She made it halfway down the block before she heard the slap of hurried footfalls. Breathing heavily, Levi slowed to a walk beside her. “I’ll walk you home,” he said, staring fixedly at the sidewalk ahead. There was a faint flush over his cheeks and the tips of his ears were red.

Entertained by his embarrassment, Hanji laughed and bumped her shoulder against his, “You don’t have to, short-stuff.”

He shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. “Zach is a petty asshole,” he said, “I’ll walk you home.” Levi shoved his hands in his pockets, and left it at that.

Hanji bumped his shoulder again, but didn’t protest.

“Maybe I can show you how to throw a good punch.”

“I didn’t think that last one was terrible. Zach’s face would probably agree with me.”

Levi huffed an amused breath. “Yeah, but there’s ways to punch that don’t hurt your fist so bad.”

She shrugged, “After school tomorrow? If we have extra time I can help you with the chem homework.”

“You don’t have to.”

Hanji grinned, “Always happy to help a friend.”

Now he was really and truly blushing.

Hanji bumped his shoulder again. This time he bumped her back. Levi looked at the ground. He seemed to be making a valiant effort not to smile. 

“Whatever,” he said, and grinned.


	27. Weathering the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

The sky darkened, and afternoon masqueraded as evening. Billowing storm-clouds stalked the city. They’d been up there all day, hoarding rain, stubbornly holding in the storm. But not for much longer. The darkest clouds rumbled; their bellies flashed with light.

The streets below had cleared. Businesses closed their doors as citizens returned home in wake of the coming storm.

As rain-damp wind twisted through the city, wind-chimes clanged; somewhere, a poorly secured shutter banged. 

A pair walked along an empty street. One tugged their hood up as the other checked that the parcel they carried was wrapped tight. The one with the parcel glanced up. A cold drop splattered on the lens of her glasses. Another struck her cheek. Cursing, she tucked the package beneath her cloak. Hanji’s boots tapped against pavement, a rapid rhythm as dark drops dotted the fabric of her cloak.

“We should hurry. I don’t want these letters to get wet.”

Her companion had stopped. He tilted his head, green hood slipping back.

Above, the sky rumbled, insistent, impatient.

Arms folded protectively over the package, she glanced back, and stopped. “Levi?”

Pale face upturned, he blinked. When the sky erupted, and white light flashed, he stared, raindrops clinging to his dark hair and lashes.

“Come on, Levi,” she called. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

It wasn’t what he was doing, and she knew it.

He closed his eyes, and his chest rose and fell. From thinly parted lips, his breath fogged, rising and fading in the cold, damp air.

“It makes me think of them.”

Her boots clicked slowly over the cobblestone. Bundled in her damp cloak, she stopped beside him, and shifted, leaning carefully against his shoulder. “I know,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and blinked once, twice. “Need a minute.”

“Want me to stay with you?”

He didn’t answer.

She stayed, nonetheless.

The sky cracked and pale light flashed, illuminating the pair where they stood, shoulder to shoulder, waiting out the storm.


	28. Mud Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 
> 
> THIS ONE WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE

“What  _the fuck_  is a mud run?”

Hanji, who was in the process of pressing a numbered label onto her stomach, looked up, confused. “…it’s what we’re about  _to do_?”

With a horrible sinking in his stomach, Levi looked beyond the pop-up-tents, to the putrid, muddy pits that lie beyond. 

_God no._

Hands on his hips, he shook his head. “Oh no-no-no-no-no. I agreed to run a half-marathon with you assholes. Not fucking….this!” He threw up his arm, gesturing at the horror-fest out there.

Mike, who was already stretching out behind Hanji sighed, “Did you read the e-mail?”

Levi glared, “I didn’t think I had to. You  _said_  it was a half marathon!”

“It is. A marathon through mud,” Hanji said, and slapped a numbered label on Levi’s shirt.

“We  _were_  surprised that you agreed to it,” Nanaba said, shrugging. “But hey, we thought you were pushing yourself to try new things.”

As she spoke, teams from the first wave of the race began to return. Thick, foul mud caked the racers. Levi recoiled. Fucking christ, it was even in their shoes.

“Hell will fucking freeze over before I set foot on that track.”

“Actually,” Nanaba hummed, “if you’ve read your Dante-”

“Not gonna happen.”

“C’mmon Levi,” Hanji cajoled, “there’s a lot riding on this! With the company pushing exercise right now, we get all those perks if we place in the top 50 teams. That extra vacation day. And the tickets to the new bioluminescent algae exhibit they have at the museum! It’s been sold out for  _months_!”

Rubbing both hands over his face, Levi moaned, “ _Why would that even be sold out?!_ ”

Mike clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey man. Don’t freak out. If you really don’t want to do this, we’re not gonna force you.” He shrugged, “We need four people to officially place. But we can just run it for fun. No big deal.”

“Good, cause there’s no way in hell-” Levi stopped, because he’d made the stupid, idiotic, fucking moronic mistake of looking at Four-eyes. 

Hands clasped, she stared at him, eyes practically glistening behind her stupid prescription grade swimming goggles. She’d been talking about the tickets and that museum trip for weeks.

That motherfucking algae.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Levi heaved a sigh. What fucked up shit had he done in a past life to deserve this? 

Steeling himself, he looked up. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Jumping up and down, Hanji pumped a fist in the air and crowed.

When they lined up at the starting line, Levi stared at the first pit, repulsed.

“Everyone has their water, right? We’ve got to make it thirteen miles,” Mike said as he stepped up to the starting line.

Levi patted the bottle strapped to his belt.

The starting flare shot off, and then they were running. As the first pit rose up, Levi stalled. Hanji grabbed his arm. Just before they reached the pit, she yanked him to a halt. She bent her knees and offered her back. “Come on! Hop up!”

_What._

He stared.

She bent lower, waving frantically at her back, “Come on, Levi! We’re getting left behind!”

Levi looked between her and the mud. It wasn’t much of a decision.

Grabbing her shoulders, he sprang easily onto her back. Unsure of what to do with his legs, he tentatively crossed them around her stomach. “Jesus, you’re bony.”

Hanji huffed and stepped into the pit. “You’re welcome.”

Elbows up, Hanji marched into the mud. At its deepest, it came up to her waist, and Levi had to angle his feet up.

Shuffling quickly, Hanji caught up to their companions. When Nanaba glanced back, she took one look at them and choked on a laugh. Mike turned and immediately guffawed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I’m not the one covered in mud!” Levi called and then muttered under his breath, “filthy bastards.” Beneath him, Hanji’s sides contracted in laugher.

“You’re lucky Hanji’s so tall - as it is, your ass is about an inch from mud soup,” Mike said, still laughing.

Levi immediately twisted around, and Hanji swayed.

“Woah there!” Hanji tilted grabbing his legs. “You’re heavier than you look. Careful how you move.”

From up ahead, Nanaba called, “Really Levi - you’re lucky that Hanji likes you so much. She’s never offered to carry me around!”

Beneath him, Hanji sputtered, “-extenuating circumstances! And you’ve never even  _asked!_ ”

Was she turning red?

Fascinated, Levi leaned forward to get a better look.

As he moved, Hanji tilted, unbalanced and pitching forward. Throwing her arms out, she screamed.

They went in.

First of all, no mud had the right to be so fucking cold.

Gasping, Levi surged up. Coughing and spitting, he grabbed Hanji beneath the arms and lifted. She broke the surface, hacking and spitting up mud.

All he could hear was the sound of Mike and Nanaba’s whooping laughter.

Running a hand down his face, Levi flung away a layer of mud.

Beside him, Hanji weakly chuckled as she scooped the mud off her goggles. “Sorry, Levi. I tried.”

Shaking off his hands, Levi sighed. “Thanks for the effort.”

Elbowing Mike as he passed, he grumbled, “My worst nightmare has already become a reality - so are we going to win this race or not?”

Clapping his a hand on his back, Mike grinned and started to run.

They made it through the first pit, and then the second, and the next five after that. The wall was slightly more challenging, the rope was difficult as well, and the mud crawl even harder than that. Levi was sure he had mud in crevices that were never,  _ever_  meant to contain mud. And  _fuck_  he was tired.

Rubbing an absolutely filthy hand over his forehead, he wiped away sweat. He glanced, again, down at his water bottle. Thanks to his initial fall, the spout was coated in mud. He wasn’t about to put that thing anywhere close to his mouth.

Beside him, Hanji chugged her water with abandon, completely unconcerned with the mud all around them. Glancing his way, she lifted a brow. “You need to drink, Levi.”

Pressing his lips together, he refused, “My _lips_  aren’t even fucking clean enough to consume anything.”

She rolled her eyes.

Bracing his hands on his hips, Levi surveyed the track that lay ahead. It was only a few miles left. He would make it.

He didn’t make it.

The finish line was in sight. Hanji and Nanaba were panting. Ahead of them, Mike had begun to cheer.

Levi looked up, squinting towards the sun. Bright spots danced in his vision. He blinked slowly. Something was buzzing in his ears. He stumbled, swaying.

“Levi?”

Hanji’s voice sounded far away.

He turned to look at her.

Frowning, she reached for him.

He blinked, and everything went dark.

When he woke, someone was holding a bottle to his lips. A hand lifted his head, and deliciously cool water trickled into his mouth and down his throat.

He coughed, “More.”

Obligingly, the bottle lifted.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed another mouthful.

“Easy, easy.” It was Hanji.

Squinting an eye open, he looked up.

Hanji bent over him. His head was in her lap. Above her, someone with a red first-aid cap peered down.

Hanji glanced up, “I think he’s okay. Just dehydrated.” As she spoke, her fingers absently brushed over his forehead. Levi closed his eyes at the touch.

Above him, Hanji and the medic were having a muttered conversation, but  _honestly_ , he was too tired to care. Eventually, he heard the medic move away. And then Hanji sighed, and her breath brushed over his face.

Squinting, he reluctantly opened his eyes.

Hanji’s goggles had been pushed up on her head. Apart from two neat circles around her eyes, her face was smeared with dried mud. It cracked as she smiled, small. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Grabbing for the water, Levi took another swig, and said, “According to Nanaba, I already had your attention.”

She rolled her eyes to the sky, but even the mud couldn’t completely hide her flush. Chuckling, she tapped his forehead. “Yeah, well now you have my full attention. Congratulations,” she said, dry.

Levi stared up, considering. “Hey. Did we make it? Place within the top 50?”

Hanji’s lips twitched. “Placed 42nd. Nanaba and Mike are collecting the certificates to prove it.”

Pressing his lips together, Levi nodded, thinking. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, “Want to go to that algae fest with me?”

And then she really was grinning. She stroked a hand over his head and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

“Good. Great,” He muttered, because Hanji was above him, and she was definitely blushing now. Her warm hands still held his head. Coughing awkwardly, he rolled up, and Hanji smiled, rubbing the back of her neck. Dirt practically poured off of her.

Levi was struck by a sudden, terrible thought. Freezing, he slowly, carefully looked down.

Horrified, he could only whisper one word.

“Shower.”

Gripping his shoulders, Hanji guided him toward the tents. “I reserved a shower stall in advance. Your most abrasive soaps are packed in my bag.”

Closing his eyes, Levi groaned in relief. “Thank the fuck. Hanji Zoe, marry me right now.”

She laughed.

As he stepped into the shower, fumbling with the lids to his favorite soaps, he decided he was really only partially joking.


	29. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It was all me, by the way."
> 
> TW: Character death

The leaves in the tree above shifted and sighed. Tired afternoon light trickled, sifting lazily between swaying branches.

The grass was soft, damp. Cool. 

They lay, sprawled on the grass, limbs splayed, shoulders touching.

“Beautiful day,” she mused.

“Little cold,” was his answer.

“Must just be you. I feel fine.”

“Right,” he said, dry.

Her answering laugh was quiet.

He closed his eyes.

“The thing that really gets me, are the questions. There’s so many left. Too many. How was I ever supposed to find the time?”

Levi blinked, slow. He glanced lazily to the side. “Which questions?”

“The actual history of our people, for one. What’s truth? What’s propaganda? It kills me that we’ll never know.”

He blew out a breath.

“The physiology of titans, too. Is there a way to revert them back without the serum?” she continued. “And of course, the flowers.”

“The flowers.”

“Yes!” She laughed, and then coughed. And coughed again. It turned into a low gasp, and she roughly cleared her throat before continuing, quiet. “Years ago, remember when I was studying the regenerative ability of flowers?”

He didn’t answer - not that he’d needed to. She was already talking.

“I was constantly in need of new samples. It so happened that someone started dropping them off. At my desk, in the letter box outside my room, on my chair in the mess hall. Years went by, and the experiment ended, but the flowers kept coming. Different species and colors. Fascinating specimens.” She smiled and sighed.

Levi stared up, watching the branches. The breeze picked up. Red and brown autumnal leaves shivered and fell. 

“We had a lot of time,” he said.

“Could have had longer.”

He couldn’t argue.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a damp hand against his side.

“It was all me, by the way,” he said, at last.

“What?”

“The flowers.”

Leaves shifted. Orange light glared down, blinding.

“Ah.” A long slow sigh. “I thought they might be.”

He turned, and wet grass tickled his cheek.

Her dark hair fanned out, tangling with the dirt and leaves. Cracked goggles hung uselessly around her neck. Her eyes were tired.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“What could we possibly have done about it? With this life? The responsibilities we both had.” She was quiet for a moment, and added, “I know it was necessary. These roles we played. But a part of me wishes it could have been different. That we could have just lived.”

“We got dealt a shit hand. Nothing we could do but play.”

Dancing light caught the webbed fractures in her goggles, the red smeared on her forehead and cheek, her rich brown gaze. “Nothing we can do now anyway.”  Hanji smiled, small. “Still, I want another chance. In another life, maybe,” she whispered.

“You’ve been listening to the wall cult, huh?” He coughed, and groaned. “It’s all bullshit.”

The whisper of dry leaves shifting in the grass was his only answer.

He looked at her, and breathed a long, slow sigh.

“Fuck.”

Twisting his head back, he stared up at the tree, and the deep blue sky beyond. Screwing up his face, he pressed down on his side - and let go. Damp, stained fingers crawled, brushing over grass and sticks. 

Eventually, finally, he found her hand. 

Though he’d thought sunset was hours off, daylight faded and the world dimmed. He stared up, thoughts slowing, and squeezed her cool, still fingers.

“Maybe in another life,” he mumbled under his breath, almost a prayer. 

He didn’t believe. But it was a nice thought.


	30. Mentos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "If you don't like this world, then change it."

He knelt, head bowed, pale fingers pressed against cold floor. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.  _How could this have happened?_

He was vaguely aware of the swish of fabric. Light steps.

From behind him, she spoke.

“Levi. If you don’t like this world, then change it.” Hanji said, as if her words,  _platitudes_ , meant jack-shit in the face of  _this_.

Bullshit.

As if it were that simple. Like it was that fucking  _easy_.

“Hanji,” he ground out, staring at the destruction before him. “Are you seriously drawing a comparison between the state of the world and our kitchen?”

She coughed, clearing her throat. “Ah - well - I didn’t think  _if you don’t like the state of our kitchen, then change it_ , sounded nearly as profound.”

“It’s covered in soda,” he said, horrified. “And there’s,” he paused, pinching and lifting a sticky, white candy off the floor. “Are these fucking  _mentos_?”

“I’ll be teaching about nucleation, and thought this experiment might convey the idea,” she weakly laughed, scratching the back of her head. “The physical reaction of the carbon dioxide was  _slightly_  more intense than I predicted.”

“No shit.”

“So, um, like I said, If you don’t like the state of the world-”

He moved, and she shrieked as he tackled her to the floor before she could finish.

Sprawled on the sticky floor, he grabbed her sides, mercilessly tickling. “If you think I’m cleaning your mess-”

She gasped, snorting. “Hey,  _hey!_  I had to try!  _You’re so good at it!”_

 _“If you don’t like the state of the world, then change it,”_ he said, mercilessly continuing his torture.

Writhing and laughing, she rolled, dragging Levi down with her to the sticky, mento littered floor.


	31. As Long as it Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'll be here as long as it takes."
> 
>  
> 
> It’s dark outside
> 
> And the stars are dim
> 
> So rest now, darling
> 
> Lay your weary head down

The night sighed, and flimsy curtains billowed and swayed. Pale sheets were strewn, swathed in moonlight. They lay, limbs tangled, bodies fitted together. He could feel her heartbeat, a steady thrum where her wrist touched his shoulder, where her inner-thigh pressed against his leg. Slow, serene breaths tickled his neck.

Levi blinked, staring into the dark.

Tonight, the darkness happened to stare back.

It wasn’t the first time.

Always, it was a particular hollowness that grew within, stretching, spreading, cavernous and cold. It was loss, and regret, and some other biting, bitter thing that he could not quite bring himself to name. It was the weight of silence, unbearably heavy in the long few hours before dawn.

His chest rose and fell, and a short, shuddering breath escaped his lips.

The night answered, and the curtains flitted, uneasy. Sweat beaded at his back and cooled. He shivered.

Hanji shifted. Her lips absently pressed against his collarbone. She murmured, and a string of sibilant, but meaningless syllables caressed his skin.

He shivered again.

He felt her wake. It was a subtle stiffening, a quick intake of air.

The hand that rested on his shoulder began to roam. Warm fingers trailed, deliberately pressing, tracing patterns into his back.

He closed his eyes.

She wiggled over the mattress, gracelessly burrowing beneath his outstretched arm. Squeezing, tugging her closer, was practiced, natural. He pressed his face into her neck, against her hair.

“Bad night?” she asked, voice low with sleep.

His silence was answer enough.

She hummed, and her fingers resumed their soothing path.

Heaving a deep breath, he sighed, relaxing into the touch.

Just like that, the dark, hollow thing had retreated. He could still feel it nearby, watching, waiting. But she’d always been able to keep it at bay.

He felt the night’s breeze. What once was bitter cold, was now soft, caressing - transformed beneath her touch.

As he sunk, finally,  _finally_  drifting into the depths of a deep, contented sleep, he had one last, lingering thought. Perhaps he should say something. He only managed her name.

As he faded, toeing the precipice of rest, she spoke.

“Shhh…sleep,” she said, quiet, unbelievably certain. “I’ll be here. As long as it takes.”

And so he slept.


	32. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'll wait."

Levi hunched, head bent, over a neat stack of papers. The room was quiet, save for an old clock’s steady ticking and the slow, steady scratch of graphite on paper. Squinting against the candle’s sputtering, dying light, Levi frowned, etching deliberate letters.

The report had taken him hours, and it would likely take at least one more before it was completely finished. Although the topic  _was_  a son-of-a-bitch, it alone, was not the cause for the delay. For that, Levi blamed no one but himself.

Growing up in the underground, he’d learned his letters unusually late. It had taken the theft of several books and the convincing of a reasonably kindly merchant to learn basic reading and spelling. He was well into his late teens before he could write simple sentences.

He’d continued practicing and learning well into his adult life, and now, when reading his reports or letters, most couldn’t tell he’d ever struggled.

But even so, reports that took other officers one hour, took Levi two. He took his time to write, to think, remind himself of the spelling of each word, the shape of each letter. Mistakes were not an option. If an error couldn’t be cleanly removed from the page, he started over. He hadn’t worked so hard, sacrificed so much, to sign his name to a writing that wasn’t fucking  _decent_.

Titan slaying was all in a day’s work. But the field reports that followed were an exercise in endurance.

New recruits looked on, baffled, as Levi folded and discarded nearly complete reports. And he’d sent many a frustrated errand-soldier away because the latest field briefings had yet to be fully drafted.

Most didn’t understand.

Not that Levi cared enough to explain. A harsh look or biting word was usually enough to scatter the recruits and send any errand-soldiers scrambling back to whomever had sent them in the first place.

For this particular report, he’d retreated to his room. The relentless click of the clock was a balm to his nerves, because as the hour grew later, it became less and less likely that his focus would be interrupted. He’d already restarted the report twice-over, and he didn’t relish the idea of starting it again.

It was about a Titan. A fucking Titan. As if his life wasn’t consumed enough with them already.

On his last mission, he’d observed and dispatched a Titan of abnormal variety. He’d never seen one quite like it. It turned out no one else had either.

Like the inevitable return of mosquitoes during Trost’s warm, wet summers, he’d come back to headquarters knowing full well that Hanji’s impending interrogation was an unpleasant certainty.

The more he could get on paper now, the less she’d hound him for details later.

Levi paused, holding his breath as he read over his most recent sentence.

Good enough.

Satisfied, he leaned forward, already mentally composing the next.

A swift knock interrupted him.

“Levi?”

She’d found him.

His first instinct was to ignore her, though he knew full well it would never work.

The knock came again. And then, “I can see light coming from under your door. I know you’re awake. I’ll just keep knocking.”

With one last, longing look at the report, he steepled his hands and sighed. “Fine. Come in.”

The door swung open before he’d even finished speaking. Hanji, hands on her hips and body bobbing with ill-constrained energy, breezed into the room. The top half of her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, as if she’d only managed to pull together half of it before something had come along and grabbed up her attention. And despite the late hour, behind lenses splattered with the remnants of unknown liquid, her brown eyes were bright with energy.

“You saw a new variety of abnormal on your last mission,” she announced, never one to bother mincing words.

Levi, who avoided using them in the first place, hummed blandly in reply.

Hanji blinked once, owlish in the dim light. And then she was on him. Wiry fingers gripped the back of his chair.

“Give me details, Levi! Where did you make contact? What was the aberrant classification? What about size? Bipedal or quadrupedal?” She gasped, “Was it like Ilse’s?  _Could it speak?_ ”

Holding the pencil well away from the report, Levi braced his other hand against the desk and glared. “Fucking stop shaking my chair!”

Her hands jumped up, and she held them deliberately aloft. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, and launched into a new line of questions. “But tell me Levi, what time of day did you observe the Titan? Were you alone? Who else witnessed the event?”

Blinking, Levi breathed slowly and waited as the rapid-fire questions continued.

Finally, “Levi? Did you catch that?”

“I’m waiting for you to finish. Are you done?”

Standing, hands clasped together, Hanji blurted, “was it volatile or a more docile variety?” before forcibly pressing her lips into a flat line.

“I’m answering all of this shit in my report,” Levi said, looking pointedly at the paper.

“I figured. Which is why I checked on my experiments, and then wrote my observations, and then worked on my supply reports,” she said, hands gesticulating, already back in motion. “And then I got some dinner, and found Moblit and planned our schedule for tomorrow. And now I’m here.” She grinned.

Hanji was starting to move again, bouncing up on her toes, and Levi had the sudden impression of her flitting impatiently about headquarters, frustrated with the knowledge that there was new, tantalizingly fascinating information so very near. He could picture her forcing herself to go about her routine, steps slowing as she neared Levi’s door before shaking her head and determinedly marching on to her next task. She’d even stopped to eat dinner.

Hanji Zoe was drawn to truth like a moth to light. For her, every delay in discovery was an exercise in patience. To think her merely impulsive was to misunderstand a fundamental tenet of her being.

Levi couldn’t bring himself look at the immaculate, but ultimately unfinished report. “I’m not done.”

He knew delay wouldn’t kill her. Still, he felt guilty. She wore her disappointment as obviously as her excitement. It was still hands, drooping shoulders, a poorly disguised pout.

Hanji remained still, save for her eyes, and he saw her attention shift from the crumpled drafts in the trash, to the lingering smudges on his fingers, and finally, the tired candle burned low.

Most didn’t understand his compulsion.

He should have known; Hanji was rarely like most.

Wincing as if she’d swallowed a stiff drink, she took a step back and released the breath she’d been holding. It was the sound of resignation, acceptance, and resolve.

And then, like a flame reignited, she was again in motion. “Right! I apologize for coming by so late and interrupting your work,” she said, and smiled. “I eagerly await the contents of your report. Whenever you finish, drop it off to me - or Moblit,” she added after a thought. “I’ll likely have some follow up questions for you later.”

Levi, who’d fully anticipated on being questioned well into the hours of morning, waited, silent and surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d defied his expectations, and he was honest enough to admit that it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Though he needn’t have waited. Apparently she’d said all she’d meant to. Departing with a curt nod, she reached for the door.

“You don’t want what I have so far?” Levi regretted the words, even as he spoke. The report wasn’t done. He hadn’t finished it, or even fully checked it over. Irrational anxiousness churned in his stomach, even though he knew it was only Hanji - and maybe Moblit -  who would likely read the report.

Hand on the doorknob, Hanji stopped. Her fingers squeezed, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall. Finally, she jerked her head. A decision had been made.

Looking over her shoulder, she scoffed. “Please, Levi. It’s not even done yet! I won’t be satisfied unless I have all of the information.” Shrugging, she smiled. “It’s better if I have the full thing anyway. Take your time on the report. I’ll wait.”

Impatience stirred, an inferno within her. He could see it in her too-quick steps, her hands in motion, nails picking at nicks and scratches around her fingers. She didn’t want to wait. It went against every fibre in her being.

And yet she was waiting. For him.

Levi wasn’t one to lie, even to himself, and so he was forced to admit that the knowledge made something warm and intangible stir within his chest.

Before he could return to the report, there was a quiet noise outside, and a note slid in, slipped beneath his door.

It contained Hanji’s messy, scrawling print.

_I meant what I said. Find me WHENEVER you finish. I won’t be able to sleep until I know. I have enough coffee to get me through the better part of the week. I don’t mean to rush you. Take your time. THANKS._

Levi read the note, and then read it again. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed.

Reaching into his desk, he dug out a fresh candle.

If she could wait for him, then he supposed for her, he could hurry. At least on this.

Beneath the light of the twin flickering flames, the report waited. The clock sounded, an endlessly ticking reminder. Resolved, he started again.


	33. Tracing the Uncharted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Call me if you need anything."

Their boots scuffed and scraped, raucous in the empty stairwell. **  
**

It was only half past nine, but the mess hall had cleared and the hallways long since emptied. The military ran on Erwin’s time, and with Erwin being a notoriously early riser, most soldiers retired to their rooms at an early hour to manage a reasonable cognizance come pre-dawn roll-call.

And while Hanji was not fond of this schedule, as she was decidedly not built for  an early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine, she could appreciate the empty halls now. While she was not usually one to put much stock in the opinions of others, it was a frankly embarrassing lack of forethought that put her in this position.  

“Just - fuck - Hanji would you stop? I’m gonna drop you down the stairs.”

Hanji, intent on adjusting the satchel at her back - the bursting sack was about to lose a book - ignored him and twisted, reaching. She was ninety-nine percent confident he’d hold her.

They swayed.

Make that ninety-eight percent confident.

Levi swore under his breath and shifted, bracing.

She palmed the spine, forcing it back into the bag, before throwing her arm back over his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, she asked, saccharine, “shall we?”

Blowing a breath, Levi squinted and leveled her an exasperated look before grabbing for the stairway rail. With one hand on the rail and his other around her waist, he heaved them up.

Hanji, bracing an arm over his shoulders, awkwardly hopped alongside. The satchel bumped painfully against the small of her back. Her left leg was lifted, wrapped foot hovering tenderly over the floor.

She winced as the bag bumped again, and cursed, not for the first time, the placement of the third floor officer’s hall. Of course, if it weren’t for the events of the previous morning, it wouldn’t be so much of an issue.

She’d volunteered to assist with a new batch of trainees. 

A meeting had been cancelled, and she’d taken the rare free hour to get outside and mingle with the new recruits. She liked their energy. Besides, as a squad leader, she valued the chance to get a feel for new soldiers’ skills and temperaments. And it never hurt to get a little extra practice for herself.

Keith Shadis was a demanding instructor, and handed out laps like they were candied treats at the Midsummer parade. But the most prepared instructors couldn’t predict the future, and even the most dedicated students were not immune from error.

One of the recruits hadn’t gotten their 3DMG hooked up properly. They were mid-flight when one of their cables failed to fully retract. They’d stalled, machinery grinding and cables screaming as they jerked and fell, limbs flailing uselessly as they plummeted groundward.

Hanji hadn’t survived upwards of thirty trips beyond the wall by freezing in the face of disaster.

She was near enough to hear the metallic groan of wrenched gears, the recruit’s panicked hitch of breath. Her processing of the noise and subsequent reaction were nearly instantaneous. Even so, the recruit was almost too far away. With a burst of speed and a dexterous twist, she snagged him, yanking the young soldier out of his head-first plummet, but there was little time to slow their fall. They hit the ground feet first.

The recruit’s broken leg wasn’t enough to save him from the the wrath of a near apoplectic Keith Shadis.

Hanji felt fortunate to be able to walk away from the incident with only a sharply aching ankle and a pronounced limp to show for it. After waving off Keith’s offers to call a medical officer, she’d returned to her office. With plenty to work on, she’d absently chewed on pain-numbing willow bark and propped up her aching ankle before setting to work.

As fascinating work was wont to do, the project consumed her. It wasn’t until evening, when she finally emerged from her coma-like state of attention, that she realized her ankle, now an angry red, had swelled up, nearly doubling in size.

A cursory examination determined it was only a sprain - though admittedly it was a bad one. But she’d had worse in her days as a trainee. Digging through the spare medical supplies stashed in her office, she easily wrapped it herself.

By that time it was, of course, painful to walk on, and Hanji might very well have stayed the night in her office if it weren’t for a set of journals she’d left in her room. Without them, her current analysis was stalled, and since sitting in her office, alone, with nothing meaningful to occupy her busy mind was, to her, akin to light torture, staying put was out of the question.

She’d long since dismissed Moblit for the night and Nifa, Abel, and Keiji had departed even before.

The officer’s wing was on the third floor, but she wasn’t daunted. Her last sprain had been beyond the walls. Here, at least, she didn’t have to worry about a stray titan consuming her.

With a satchel full of the necessary books to continue her research, Hanji had set out on a limping journey through the building.

She’d made it as far as the stairs.

Three steps up, red-faced and clutching hopelessly at the rail, was where Levi found her.

To his credit, he’d only stared in stunned silence for half a second before heaving a deep sigh and moving to assist her.

By now, they were more than halfway there, and Hanji panted, taking another hop. Beside her, Levi grunted, breathing steadily through his nose as he guided her up the next step.

“This is -” he grunted. “This is fucking ridiculous. Tell me you recognize that this is insane. Why aren’t you in the medical unit?”

Hanji clenched his shoulder and took another wobbly hop. “It’s just a sprain, Levi.”

Frowning, Levi glanced up between strands of dark hair. He looked to be eying the remaining distance to the top of the stairs.

“What abou Moblit and Nifa? Couldn’t ask them for help?”

“They’d already left.”

Another deep sigh.

As they finally,  _finally_ crested the top of the stairs, with Levi’s fingers digging sharply into her side and her arm, sweaty and flopped over his neck and shoulders, she croaked out a gasping cheer.

Levi helped her through the rest of the hall. As it turned out, on flat ground they could really move. Like uncannily coordinated partners in a three-legged race, they hobbled swiftly down the hall.

“You gonna tell me how this one happened?” Levi finally asked.

“Training accident with one of Shadis’ recruits.”

Levi frowned, but didn’t otherwise remark. After taking a quick look at her, he pressed his lips together and silently helped her forward.

His silence was more fine with her. Sweaty from the laborious climb up the stairs and with a tenderly throbbing ankle, she was decidedly  _not_  in the right frame of mind to deal with Levi’s more than apparent dislike of Keith Shadis. Hanji was well aware there were not many people that Levi actively liked, but his antipathy towards the man was as obvious as it was irrational, and its origin was a mystery Hanji had still yet to solve.

They took a hard right and Hanji draped over him, closing her eyes.

“Where’s your key?”

Ah. Right. She knew she’d forgotten something.

“On my desk.”

She’d packed up, half of her mind still preoccupied with the project, the other half distracted by pain.

Hanji didn’t move from her draped position, nor did she open her eyes. She’d long ago entrusted him with a spare.

He shifted her, wordlessly digging into his pocket.

As the door swung open, she sighed, slumping shapelessly over him. Her bag swung down, knocking the handle out of his grasp.

Levi cursed, bracing against the doorframe, fumbling with the door, “Fuck, Hanji  - would you let me open the goddamn door?”

When she leaned, straining to lift the bag, she nearly tipped them and Levi cursed again.

Finally, she lifted in enough to toss it in. It thudded, falling sadly to its side less than a foot into the room.

Blowing a breath, Levi stepped over the obstacle, carefully guiding her into the room.

With his help, she made it to the bed.

As she stripped herself of the harnesses she’d previously been too lazy to fully remove, Levi moved efficiently around the room, grabbing a hanging water flask, a pain poultice that had been left, discarded by her desk, an extra pillow from the closet.

Levi set the water and poultice at her bedside table and as she tossed the leather straps onto the floor, he deposited the extra pillow at the foot of her bed. Leaning back, she sighed, dropping her weary foot atop its cool, soft fabric.

She was settled, all necessary supplies - journals and books included - within reach, so she was surprised when Levi did not immediately depart. He’d gone quiet.

Head tipped down, his arm snapped out. He snatched up the poultice, the movement jerked, rushing, as if his limbs were resolved to act before his brain could think better of it.

He twisted the lid and lifted the container, nostrils flaring as he gave the pale cream a cautionary sniff. He wrinkled his nose, but dipped two fingers in regardless. And then he reached down. Cool fingers brushed her inflamed skin before he stopped, hand jerking warily back. Glancing up, he met her gaze. 

His lips were parted, as if he were as surprised by his actions as she. He frowned, brows drawn down in a silent question.

Touch between them was not unusual. It was an arm - hers - thrown over his shoulders after a long day, a hand - his - squeezing her arm or shoulder, communicating a question or reminder, it was a jabbing elbow to make room at crowded dining table, a nudge at a shared joke.

This was not that. It was…well, it was something else.

It was tentative, slow, painfully tender.

Instinctively, she recognized it as different, something new. Somehow, without sign or warning, they’d stepped past the edge of charted territory, and were now treading perilously into unexplored terrain.

He must have realized it too, because he waited, fingers hovering above exposed skin, for some sign to continue.

Hanji nodded, once. 

Levi’s approach to change was slow, always cautious, and yet he’d caught her off-guard. Unbalanced as she was, she didn’t trust herself to find the right words, and she didn’t want to discourage him.

She closed her eyes, wincing as cool poultice touched her skin.

Perched gingerly at the side of the bed, Levi bent, back curving, and slowly, carefully brushed the cream over her skin. Pale lips pressed firmly together, he stared, squinting in concentration. He touched her gently, applying the barest pressure to her skin.

Hanji huffed a breath, and against her better judgment, broke the silence, “You missed your calling. Steady hands like that, you could have been a doctor.”

“Well,” Levi said, hands slowing, “if carving up titans doesn’t work out, guess I’ll have something to fall back on.” He paused, reaching back for the jar, and added, “Wouldn’t be any good at it though. Always been better at breaking things than putting them back together.”

Hanji watched him, his fingers carefully working over her ankle, and said, soft and musing, “No. I don’t think that’s true.”

Grey eyes flicked up. Dark hair fell over his forehead, and for a moment, he looked at her, his expression inscrutable.

It lasted all of a second, and then it was over. Chest rising and falling beneath slow, determinedly even breaths, he rubbed the last patch of ointment into her ankle.

As he screwed the lid back on the jar, Hanji leaned back, enjoying the soft embrace of the bed and pillows beneath her.

Levi placed the jar on the table with a  _thunk_ , and without meeting her eyes, said, “Next time your sad ass is too injured to climb the stairs, try looking for some help.”

“Are you offering?”

“To find Mike and get him to haul your gangly ass up the stairs.”

Hanji laughed, snorting.

The sound made something in Levi loosen. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked at her, heaving a long, slow breath through his nose. He opened his mouth, paused, and closed it, frowning. He blinked, and stepped back, whatever he’d been about to say swallowed forcefully down.

Hanji watched him go, an inexplicable tightening in her chest, a response to a question that up till now, she hadn’t even thought to ask.

After all this time,  after all the years that she’d known him, she wondered: what exactly was he to her? What was she to him?

Hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder and said, “You know my sleep schedule is fucked. Call me if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”

As he pushed the door open, the tight feeling turned sick and sinking.

She’d never learned how to turn away from a mystery; she was unschooled in how to disregard an enigma that stood so obviously before her. Certainly not when it was something that made her insides feel soft, something so painfully, undeniably personal.

“Levi!” She said, rushed. It came out too loud, awkward, in the small room.

He stopped, hand still on the door.

“Stay.” She said, and swallowed. “If you want.” 

Her offer was followed by silence, and she had to resist the burning compulsion to fill it.

He was still for too long, and she drew in a breath, ready to laugh, call out a joke that would dispel the heaviness in the room, spare them both.

The door closed, latch clicking firmly into place. Hand pressed against the door, he turned back to face her.

She hadn’t asked the question, not directly. Nonetheless, he answered. 

Pursing his lips, he gruffly cleared his throat and said simply, roughly, “Okay.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Times Like These: So Many Broken Pieces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591119) by [seriousfangirl97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfangirl97/pseuds/seriousfangirl97)
  * [Times Like These: Campfire Tales](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692549) by [seriousfangirl97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfangirl97/pseuds/seriousfangirl97)




End file.
